Season 8: The Mary Sue Episodes
by LinneArthur
Summary: A slightly alternate universe for BtVS season 8. Basically, you need to know that bits of BtVS season 5 and most of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye.
1. And So It Begins

Giles rubbed his eyes wearily before cleaning his glasses. He'd finally seen the last of the neo-Slayers onto planes home – or wherever they'd wanted to go. Kennedy had opted for Rio, and Giles scrubbed his glasses vigorously as he gave thanks for missing the sight of Willow saying goodbye to Kennedy's tongue piercing.  
  
There were only the 4 of them left now. Willow, Xander, Dawn and Buffy. Buffy. She seemed so much better lately, since Sunnydale had turned into a giant hole in the ground. Maybe that had been therapeutic for her. Filthy little demon-infested place, Giles thought sourly. It was almost worth the latest barely averted apocalypse to see the end of it.  
  
"Giles!" Xander was chugging up, hauling Dawn behind him. "Willow's split! Look at this!"  
  
"Xander, do stop exclaiming," Giles begged as he took the note Xander was flapping in his face. Just as he'd suspected, Willow had taken off to "find herself". Hmm, thought that became passé after the 80s. Girl always was a psychological straggler.  
  
Giles started listening to Xander again, blessedly just in time to hear him interrupted by Dawn. "Shouldn't we all be getting on with our lives? Willow's got to deal with her power, I have to get back to school sometime, Xander needs a new job and Buffy . . . well, she'll be OK now? Won't she?"  
  
"Hey, yeah, sure. I mean . . . she was almost like before she met Angel, there at the end." Xander looked hopefully at the other two.  
  
"We'll see" Giles said with his usual caution, "now let's go find that lodging Faith and Wood got for us."  
  
Before leaving for England to round up surviving Watchers and clue them in on the Slayer explosion, Faith and Wood had set up hotel rooms for the remaining Scoobies. Thankfully, Wood had upgraded Faith's Motel 6 tastes to a Best Western. He'd gotten them a pair of connected rooms for a week, with an open room service tab, on his card.  
  
After checking in, Giles and Xander joined the Summers' girls in their room for a "planning session". In reality, it was an attempt to determine Buffy's mental condition.  
  
Over the inevitable pizza dinner, they all gently probed their Slayer, trying to find out how she was remembering her life. She was, in fact, much clearer now, so much so that the velvet glove treatment quickly became irksome.  
  
"OK, guys? What's going on?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Going on?" Giles said innocently, "nothing is 'going on' Buffy. I've no idea to what you're referring."  
  
Buffy's eyes narrowed. Giles' English was way too English. "You're all acting like that Twilight Zone episode – the lost, spacey one and you know what I mean so don't . . . "  
  
"SPIKE!!" Dawn shrieked at a decibel level they hadn't heard in nearly a year, and leapt up to race across the room into the blonde vampire's arms. He was standing just outside the open door, dressed bizarrely in a woman's green wool coat, bare legs looking even more alabaster than usual in contrast to the bright fabric.  
  
"Nice of you all to wait around, make sure I wasn't dead before you took off." Spike said over Dawn's head. "I'd be hitchhiking nude, at night, along highway 99 if it wasn't for my girl here". At Dawn's invitation, Spike stepped into the room, carrying the teenager with him.  
  
His girl? Buffy was terribly confused. She certainly hadn't hung behind – she'd seen him die. At least, she thought she had, it seemed hazy now. Troubled, Buffy looked to Xander, only to notice he was still staring toward the door, slack-jawed.  
  
Buffy followed his gaze to the woman who had taken Spike's place in the doorway and unhinged Xander's jaw. Despite the perfect hourglass figure, creamy, flawless skin and cloud of dark russet hair around her face, she gave off an air of sophistication that Buffy associated with people Giles' age. Buffy's Slayer sense told her this woman had been around longer and knew a hell of a lot more than she did.  
  
Peering at the stranger over Spike's shoulder, Dawn managed to contain her happy sobs, quickly wiped her eyes, then held out her hand.  
  
"You must be Karen the Slayer" she said, "I'm Dawn. Buffy's sister."  
  
"Spike's told me all about you" Karen said, taking Dawn's hand. "He says you're becoming expert on the short sword. That's my favorite weapon, perhaps we can practice together some time."  
  
"Hold it!" Buffy yelled, "Karen . . . the Slayer!?! How did this happen? You're not a Potential, you're, like, two times a Potential."  
  
"Keep your knickers on, Summers", Spike explained, "Karen here got resuscitated back in '84, after a nasty disagreement with a Fyral. You got some experience of comin' back from the dead yourself; nothing new goin' on."  
  
"That's true, Buffy", Karen added. "There hasn't been only one Slayer in the world for nearly 60 years. At the moment, there are 5 of us who've come back from the dead. We think of ourselves as auxiliary Slayers – off the Council's leash, but lending a hand behind the scenes."  
  
"But . . . "Buffy started, then stopped to stare around her flabbergasted. "Did anyone else know this?" she finally finished.  
  
"I suspected," Giles admitted, "there have been rumors among the field Watchers, but nothing solid."  
  
"Spike told me." Dawn chirped, still plastered to Spike's side.  
  
"And me," Xander admitted. "And I kinda mentioned it to Anya. And Willow."  
  
"But not to me? You didn't think I'd be interested?" A chorus of no's, not really's and enough on your plate's followed.  
  
"All right. Fine. I suppose it wasn't important to tell me about Spike's love life either, after all he and I went through together," Buffy sniffed.  
  
Three faces with shifty eyes looked at anything but Buffy, one face stared straight at her in astonishment.  
  
"Had . . . together, Blondie?" Spike asked, "we've been through plenty side by side, but no more than anyone else here." Spike took his turn looking around at the others, who were still shifting their eyes. "What's the story?" he asked in a moderate growl.  
  
Giles sighed and took his glasses off, not even bothering to clean them before putting them in his coat pocket. He wasn't going to want to see anything clearly for a good while. He turned to Buffy.  
  
"After you were brought back, there were quite a lot of repercussions, mostly psychological. You were, unwell, for a long time. You still did your duty as a Slayer, instinct took over there, but your mind had trouble re-adjusting. You imagined things, sometimes hallucinated for weeks, and invented a history to go along with your delusions."  
  
Looking over at Spike, he continued. "We told you she was just badly depressed because . . . well, because it seemed simpler. You had a lot of distractions yourself and were so rarely around . . . "  
  
"Spike wasn't around? But he was stalking me for months before we started . . . "Buffy stopped, appalled. "How long was he not around?"  
  
"Been starrin' in a few dreams, eh, Goldilocks?" Spike grinned rapaciously at Buffy until Karen squeezed his arm and gave him a mild, remonstrating look. Still grinning, Spike shrugged good-naturedly. "Knowin' when to shut my gob never was my strength. Don't know what you've been imaginin', Summers, but I been with my Karen nearly 3 years now and I'm strictly a one- woman man. Was keen on you once, that's the truth, but after the 57th time you broke my nose for no reason I figured I needed to be chasin' another bird." He gave Karen a hungry look, then continued.  
  
"After that business with the Glory bitch was over, I started takin' free- lance killin' jobs to make money for Dawn's upkeep. Demon only, of course, 'cause of the chip. Kept me away a lot, even before Red brought you back. After that, a lot more of the ready was needed to keep things goin'. Anya and Xander couldn't cover it all, and the rest had their hands full taking care of you. Don't think I spent more than 5 days out of 30 in Sunnydale till the First started its antics."  
  
Buffy absorbed this in silence. Over 2 years of her life appeared to be imaginary. "If so many things I remember didn't happen, what actually did?"  
  
Taking a deep breath, Giles filled her in, with occasional help from the others.  
  
After Buffy's death, Giles had given up his apartment to move in with Dawn and Willow, give them a stable adult guardian and keep Social Services out of their lives. Later, he'd stayed to help care for Buffy.  
  
"But . . . when did you go to England, or come back?"  
  
"Buffy," Giles said, faintly hurt, "I never left Sunnydale. A Watcher doesn't leave his Slayer, they're a team. Even during the few months of your death, I didn't leave because Dawn and Willow still needed help."  
  
Willow's irresponsible and dangerous use of magic in bringing Buffy back from the dead had so repelled Tara that she'd left. Dawn got letters from her regularly, but there was no likelihood of the former lovers reuniting.  
  
Crushed by the breakup with Tara, and guilt-ridden over Buffy's mental condition after the resurrection, Willow had stopped practicing magic altogether until the battle with the First Evil made it necessary again.  
  
There'd been a brief bit of trouble with Warren Meers, who'd attempted to become a mad scientist in control of the demon world of Sunnydale, but ended up eaten by a bored vampire minion.  
  
"What about the rest of the Nerd Herd?" Buffy asked, "Jonathan and Andrew?"  
  
"Jonathan left town years ago, Buffy," Xander explained, "he's a psychology student at New Mexico University. And who's Andrew?"  
  
"You know, Tucker's brother."  
  
"Uh, Buffy, Tucker doesn't have a brother."  
  
"OK, forget it," Buffy sighed, "what else really happened?"  
  
Riley had come back briefly, chasing a South American demon who'd come to a colder climate to breed. He was married to a fellow soldier named Samantha and they'd left after killing the demon and paying their respects at Joyce's grave.  
  
Xander and Anya had called off their wedding, after Xander developed a case of terminal cold feet. Anya had briefly flirted with the idea of becoming a vengeance demon again, but realized she no longer had the stomach for it and preferred the life of a capitalist merchant anyway.  
  
The First Evil had started a new assault on the human world with the help of his harbingers and a psychotic preacher. Although a large number of Potentials had made it alive to Sunnydale, many more had died along with their Watchers.  
  
"We spread out around the world and killed as many Harbingers as we could, clearing a way for the girls," Karen interjected sadly, "but there appeared to be no end of the First's rabble. We lost one of our own to them – Lara the Siberian Slayer. I'd decided to fight my way to Sunnydale for the final battle, but it took longer than I expected – I only arrived in time to pick up Spike outside the crater."  
  
"Right glad you did, love," Spike said. "Didn't really fancy my chances getting a comfortable ride thumbin' it in my state." Buffy ground her teeth together through Spike and Karen's prolonged kiss before snappishly urging Giles to go on.  
  
"There isn't much left to tell, Buffy. We won, with terrible losses, but the First has retreated. I think the rest of the story is Spike's. Don't take this wrong, William, but why are you still one of the living dead?"  
  
"That's right! You turned into a column of flame while destroying the turnip tops." Buffy glared at the others, silencing their automatic correction.  
  
"And you know this how, Summers? You left right after the flaming hand trick." Spike started to take off the overly warm coat, then thought better of it and continued his story. "Seems the bauble was spelled to turn me into a source of pure sunlight that would burn up anything in the vicinity that wasn't me – including my clothes and, thank God, that damned chip."  
  
"Wait a minute!" Xander yelled, alarmed, "you're chipless?"  
  
"Don't lose control of your bowels, Droopy Boy. I've done my share of changing over the past few years, courtesy of the damned chip and a pair of ladies." Spike smiled at Dawn and Karen. "I may still be a demon, but I'd say I'm more practical in nature now than evil. In any event, I've no plans to murder you in your sleep no matter how much of a tosser you are."  
  
"But, your soul . . . "Buffy began.  
  
"Was a particularly ornate hallucination of yours, Buffy," Giles finished for her. "There are no wish granting demons in Africa and in any case Spike never sought one out. He was in the Yukon clearing out a swarm of Yggiz demons during your Spike-goes-to-Africa phase."  
  
"Buffy, are you going to be OK with this?" Dawn asked, noticing her sister's dismal expression. Buffy started to shake her head, then suddenly perked up.  
  
"If it was all imaginary, that means I never worked at the Double Meat Palace!" she said, relieved.  
  
"Actually, you did do that," Dawn explained, "You thought you could support us with a burger joint job."  
  
Shame greater than her hallucinated affair with Spike overwhelmed the tiny Slayer. "Wow," she whispered, "I really was out of it."  
  
"You seem much better now, though!" Dawn said comfortingly.  
  
"Yes, vanquishing the First and sharing your calling with all the Potentials seems to have had a marvelous recuperative effect on you." Giles smiled warmly at Buffy. "I think this is a fresh beginning for all of us."  
  
TBC ::sound of ominous music:: 


	2. RIP AI

Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
Episode 8.2  
  
R.I.P., AI  
  
Buffy woke up groggily. Dawn continued snoring in her bed, worn out by her own exuberance over Spike's return. Buffy, on the other hand, had barely slept and when she did, was plagued by dreams that she was a character in a story, and her part kept being rewritten.  
  
Desperately needing to talk to the one person whose role in her life she was sure she remembered correctly, Buffy dressed quietly, left a note for Dawn and slipped out of the hotel room to find Angel.  
  
In the hotel garage, she considered her options: the Sunnydale High school bus that Xander was now driving, and the less comment provoking rental car Giles had gotten. Although the guys had the keys, Dawn had long ago passed on the hot-wiring training she'd received from Spike. With a sigh, Buffy realized it was pointless – she couldn't drive either vehicle without disaster, and Giles was too strapped to pay damage charges.   
  
Buffy decided to hoof it or use the bus system. How hard could that be in LA? Twelve hours later, an exhausted Slayer admitted defeat. She'd easily found the location of the Hyperion again, but there was no longer any trace of the hotel; in its place were 3 Starbucks. Questioning the locals yielded nothing but blank looks and inquiries about how much foam she wanted on her latte. No one remembered the existence of the hotel or had heard of Angel Investigations.  
  
Resolutely deciding to search Los Angeles, Buffy set out again and spent the rest of the day alternating between walking dirty streets and riding buses that apparently went only to the bad part of town. She had nothing to show for her efforts but sore feet and confusion. When she'd stumbled across the LA library, her spirits lifted briefly; surely info central would be able to help!  
  
Alas, info central had only old newspaper stories about "strange doings" at the Hyperion in its heyday and a notice of its' mysterious destruction several months ago. Wesley Wyndham-Price was mentioned as the missing owner of the building as well as his business, Angel Investigations, having once been headquartered there. Not a word about Angel or Cordelia.  
  
Chilled and miserable, Buffy left the library and was about to cross the street when a sleek, black Jaguar pulled to a stop in front of her. The passenger door popped open to reveal Karen at the wheel. "Of course", Buffy thought, "she has Spike, she has that body, why wouldn't she have this car?"   
  
"Can I give you a lift, Buffy?" Karen asked. "I was just out shopping for William – can't have him wearing my coat forever, stunning as he looks in it. I live not too far from here, would you like to stop by for supper?"  
  
Karen stopped talking, aware of the girl's awkwardness with her and not wanting to push. Buffy'd had a very cold tidal wave of reality fall on her yesterday, and as much as Karen wanted to help, she couldn't blame the younger Slayer if she preferred to get her help elsewhere.  
  
Buffy looked the car over, then looked at Karen and decided to be adult about this. "Thanks, I've been walking around all day on no food, and I'd love something to eat."   
  
A short while later, Karen pulled into the driveway of a cottage set right on the edge of the Santa Monica beach. It was smaller than the Summers' house, and covered in 40's era charm. Buffy helped Karen carry in the bags and boxes of clothing.  
  
After dropping off the purchases in what Buffy assumed was a bedroom, Karen made the promised meal: steak sandwiches, potato salad (homemade, Buffy noticed, struggling to remain adult) and coffee, with ice cream and chocolate sauce for dessert.   
  
As they were finishing up, Spike appeared, dressed in his familiar all black ensemble. Including, Buffy noted with surprise, a black leather duster.  
  
"My glad-you're-still-here gift", Karen grinned. "It's just so him."  
  
"And I didn't have to kill a soul for it this time, though I did do a lot of kissing for it," Spike said, pausing to nuzzle the side of Karen's neck. "I suppose that's morally ambiguous. Don't want to wimp out entirely."  
  
Spike sat down at the table and lit up a cigarette. "So. What are you girls up to?"  
  
After Buffy filled Spike in on the missing gang of champions, Spike rose and headed to the door, gesturing for her to join him. "You need the car, luv?" he asked Karen then deftly caught the keys she tossed to him.  
  
"Buffy, if you want to know what happened to demon hunters, ask demons. You think there was a single creepy crawly in Sunny D that didn't keep tabs on you?" Spike asked as he drove Buffy back toward downtown LA. "The owner of a nightclub that caters to the underworld owes me a few favors, and he used to do business with Lorne."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Demon guy from another dimension, had a club, did a karaoke mojo thing. It's a long story, but he was in with Angel. I tried calling his place, phone's been disconnected. My contact might know where he went."  
  
"How do you know so much about Angel's work and LA demons?" Buffy asked.  
  
"LA's less than 2 hours from Sunnydale, Summers. Why wouldn't I keep up with me old sire after I went into the same business, essentially, as him? We even worked together a few times, though don't go getting any ideas we've reconciled, wanker that he is."  
  
"Everything is so different, so much bigger than I thought it was," Buffy murmured.  
  
Spike gave her a sympathetic look. "Life's full of sudden changes, Summers, and we all take it in the shorts more than we'd like. Even so, I'd say you've already had your full share of wallops from Fate." Spike pulled into a parking space down a dark street. "Better we walk in from here, it's just a few blocks."  
  
Spike and Buffy walked to an upscale nightclub and past the tastefully uniformed doorman to enter a room that left Buffy feeling severely underdressed. Most of the men were in tuxedos; the women's gowns shimmered and rustled when they moved. Even the fact that half the clientele had quills sprouting from bald heads, forked tails trailing under silk hems or way too many mouths barely detracted from the elegance of the assemblage. Buffy self-consciously scuffed a sneakered toe against the lush carpet and wished a lunatic with an invisibility gun would turn up again.   
  
"Chin up, Summers," Spike whispered, "You're The Slayer, and they all know it."  
  
Scanning the crowd quickly, Buffy saw many of the people, and non-people, giving her covert, wary looks, and straightened her halter-top clad shoulders. At Spike's undertone direction of "orange demon with four horns, straight ahead", Buffy strode out through the crowd with Spike in her wake.  
  
Buffy noticed with delight that several of the demons drew back cautiously as she passed them. She felt good suddenly, she felt right. Buffy breezed up to the four-horned demon and opened her mouth to introduce herself, unnecessarily as it turned out.  
  
"Miss Buffy Anne Summers", Four Horns said, standing and inclining his head politely to her. "I heard you'd died. Again."  
  
"I make a practice of coming back", Buffy returned blithely, "and I'd like to be able to say the same about some friends of mine. Angel Investigations."  
  
Four Horns nodded, glancing at Spike. "Marker time, eh? Unfortunately, young lady, I can't tell you anything about the humans, not one of my great interests. However, my good friend Lorne has gone to try his luck in Las Vegas. Dreadful pit of a place, but Lorne always did go his own way", the demon sniffed.  
  
"And Angel?" Buffy asked.  
  
"The souled vampire – such a waste. I wasn't at all surprised when he finally had a nervous collapse and disbanded his little 'Save the Humans' club. The only surprise was that his psyche lasted as long as it did. A proper demon . . ."  
  
Four Horns stopped, noticing Buffy's growing irritation. "Do forgive me, Miss Summers; rambling and lecturing are an elderly fiend's weakness. Your friend Angel has disappeared into the lair of Russo the Sorceress. At least, that's the last news I had of that misguided young man."  
  
"Then I'll re-appear him", Buffy said firmly. "Where do I find this Russo person?"  
  
Spike choked slightly, and tried to cover it by firing up a smoke. Four Horns smiled urbanely. "In a mansion on Mullholland Drive. I wish you luck, young lady, and will eagerly await gossip of the meeting", he told her as he handed over a business card with Russo's address written in perfect script on the back.  
  
Leaving the nightclub, Spike tried to dampen Buffy's enthusiasm for an immediate onslaught.   
  
"Summers, you have no idea what you're getting into. I met Russo decades ago during WWII, after Drusilla left me the first time. Russo's not rabidly evil, but she has the disposition of all her kind: 'subtle and quick to anger'. I say we con fab with the gang before we charge the rich and occult on Mullholland Drive."  
  
"When did you get so cautious?" Buffy sneered, "you were always the guy who got too bored for his own well-thought out plans."  
  
"Ever since I started caring about people who can get hurt easily, and don't think that change was all grins and giggles. I'll thank you to show some respect, and you know we're being followed, right?"  
  
"Three seconds after we left the club," Buffy answered lightly, "shall we?"  
  
"Love to." Spike swept around with lazy grace and kicked a scaly, tailed demon into a streetlight a few yards away. Two other demons charged Buffy; the first received a kick to the chin that knocked it unconscious and the second found itself suddenly pummeled with its inert companion.   
  
As Buffy was flogging one demon with another, Spike dealt with two more who'd come running up. He recognized one of them from the nightclub – muscle and it's friends, obviously. Disposing of the first with a braining, Spike was faintly startled to see one of Buffy's demons go flying over his head, and not under it's own power.   
  
Before either of Spike's remaining demons could finish reacting to their airborne comrade, Buffy lunged in and grabbed one by its' shirt hauling it out of Spike's way to fight with her. Smiling at the sound of demon bones crunching under Buffy's tiny fists, Spike turned to his remaining opponent, dodged a blow, then tore the demon's throat out.  
  
A technique effective on human and non-human alike, Spike reflected with satisfaction, even if he did use his hand instead of his teeth. Buffy had finished off her last demon with a neck twist and was surveying the scene with glittering eyes when she glimpsed a survivor trying to sneak away. Whipping about, she grabbed the creature's throat and jerked its face down to her eye level.  
  
"Tell your boss I'm not coming back, this time, because of the info he gave me," Buffy said evenly, "but in the future he minds his manners with me."  
  
Buffy released the terrified demon, and he scampered off quickly on all fours.   
  
"The nerve of that guy!" Buffy huffed. "Acting all smooth and nicey-nice to our faces. Then he sends goons to play Quentin Tarantino the minute our backs are turned!"  
  
She noticed Spike's expression. "What are you grinning at?" she asked.   
  
"You, showing that lot who's the top of the food chain on this world. Good to see it, Buffy."  
  
Buffy started grinning herself. She was feeling better all the time, like she was breathing normally again. It had been a shock when reality righted itself from her skewed view of it, but the real world was starting to look good. And why, she wondered, had she never noticed before that Spike looked sexy even in vamp face? Damn, no wonder she'd had all those sweaty fantasies about him.  
  
"Wet nap?" Spike asked, holding out a towelette.   
  
Twenty minutes later, they were nearly to Russo's lair and still arguing about their plan of attack. Spike preferred drumming up more intel about what Russo was up to and why she needed/wanted Angel before they approached. Buffy's plan relied heavily on Spike's past acquaintance with the sorceress, and his bad boy charm.  
  
"It was just a fling, Buffy, 60 bloody years ago! I got over being dumped, she decided to go to Tanganyika for the winter, we thanked each other for a good time, and that was it. Hardly enough to make 'Remember me? Where did the years go? Heard you're holding an old mate of mine captive – hand him over. Ta, luv.' workable."  
  
"You can do it, Slick. Vamp her," Buffy smirked, enjoying her own humor. "Just keep her distracted while I find Angel and spring him."  
  
"It won't work," Spike replied as they pulled up to the gated entrance of Russo's mansion. "She's not stupid and she knows Angel's my grandsire and . . ."  
  
"Who seeks entrance to my mistress' home?" a scratchy but recognizable voice said from gate's security speaker.  
  
"ANGEL?!?" Buffy shouted while Spike stared at the speaker, dumbfounded.  
  
"Buffy, is that you? Have you come to pay homage to my implacable lady? My heart is bursting with joy at the thought of abasing myself before you both. Or it would if I had a heart. A working one."  
  
"He's gone insane," Spike marveled. "All these years of dreaming it and now it's finally happened."  
  
"That's it. I'm going inside to sort this out. You stay here and wait, I'm not going to have you actually see him like this and store up ammo to mock him with for the next 300 years."  
  
Spike began to protest, then conceded the point. "I'll stay, but you're not going in alone; I'll call the others and get them up here. Giles can go in with you. If I remember Russo as well as I think I do, she'll just love Giles."  
  
"NO!" Buffy declared. "No one who doesn't love Angel sees him like this. Now either do as I say or I'll knock you unconscious, bind and gag you, and leave you in the trunk till I get back. Deal?"  
  
"Just scream really loud if you need help, will you Slayer? I'd hate to explain your transmogrified body parts to Dawn."  
  
"Deal", Buffy agreed. "Angel, open the gate. I need to have a talk with the Implacable One."  
  
As Angel babbled about the joys of groveling, the gate swung silently open and Buffy walked through, up the long paved path to the lair of Russo the Sorceress.  
  
Sorcery must be good work, Buffy mused, when she finally reached the lair. It looked like one of those ancestral piles the English were always turning into museums or hotels, and the path had taken her past a 10-car garage containing, among other things, a Mercedes Benz Silver Ghost.  
  
The massive front door opened on its own at Buffy's approach, and she walked into a foyer that could have held a marching band. It was well lit, but empty, and Buffy couldn't help feeling a bit nervous. "Hello?" she called out, "Angel? Russo? . . . Phantom of the Opera?"  
  
A silvery laugh made Buffy jump slightly. "I'd been told you had a sense of humor, and this place is rather theatrical."  
  
Buffy watched Russo sway across the marble flags of the foyer, her body as fluid as water and clad in a simple but intricately patterned white silk dress that fell nearly to her bare feet. Apparently she was the ageless variety of sorceress. Wavy, dark red hair cascaded over Russo's gold- tinted shoulders, and past the small of her back. Her glass green eyes looked amused, and in a good way as far as Buffy could tell.  
  
Buffy's own emotions were experiencing a nasty stab of envy, and she was heartily glad that Giles was not there to react to Russo. The last thing Buffy needed was the cartoon sound of the staid Englishman's tongue hitting the floor.  
  
The other woman wasn't overly tall, but she was eye-poppingly voluptuous, her bosom barely contained behind the bodice of her luminous dress. What was it with women outside of Sunnydale?, Buffy wondered. Back home, she'd been considered a major hottie; after hardly a week in LA, she'd met two women in a row who had curves in places where she didn't even have places.   
  
Pulling herself up to her full 5'3" height, Buffy attempted to stare the sorceress into submission but received only a pleasant smile in return. Obviously the woman was beyond the usual demon league.  
  
"I'm here for Angel," Buffy stated flatly, "You have him, I want him, so de- captivate him or unsorcel him or undo whatever you did do to hold him against his will or I'll . . . I'll . . ."  
  
"You'll what, little puss?" Russo asked, her smile turning sweetly dangerous.  
  
"I'll drive your best car! You'll be sorry you ever saw it in the showroom!"  
  
"I've heard about your driving," Russo told her, eyes narrowing, "that's actually a creditable threat. But you're laboring under a misunderstanding, and I'm in a mood to be generous tonight, so I'll clear it up for you right now. Ethan?"  
  
Buffy's blood began turning cold at the name, and finished at the sound of another familiar voice behind her.  
  
"Yes, my love?"  
  
Buffy stared as Ethan Rayne walked past her to stand beside Russo, taking her hand and kissing the fingers before turning to Buffy.  
  
"Compose yourself, Slayer," he told her, "I'm entirely at my beloved's command and if she's disposed to be gentle with you, I'll be a lamb."  
  
"Go get Angel, lamb; I believe he's cleaning the septic tank with a toothbrush right now. Run him under the fire hose first, will you?" Russo asked.  
  
"Just as you wish," Rayne said, leaving with a glint in his eye.  
  
"I've wanted to meet you for some time, Miss Summers. You're quite famous, you know, for a number of things. The ones that intrigue me most are winning the love of one vampire and the loyalty of another. That's remarkable for a Slayer, especially the latter. I knew William the Bloody, briefly, but very memorably. And yes, he's everything you've dreamed of," Russo finished shrewdly.  
  
"Happy times, I'm sure," Buffy dodged, not wanting to get into the winning Spike's of loyalty, an accomplishment that belonged to Dawn. Just how had she done that? Buffy made a mental note to find out once she freed Angel.  
  
Thankfully, Rayne had returned with a soaking Angel, postponing all dicey talk of who had swayed what vampire, and how. Before Buffy could greet her former eternal love, he threw himself at Russo's feet, kissing them and thanking her for allowing him to pursue his penitence at her cruel hand.  
  
"Pursuing the what huh?" Buffy asked intelligently.   
  
"My penitence, Buffy." Angel explained as he handed Rayne a box of matches to light and throw at him. "It came to me all at once, a few months ago, that although I couldn't make good all the evil I'd done, I could make it equal by indenturing my worthless, foul self to the harshest master I could find. Or mistress."  
  
Angel looked at Russo slavishly. "I'd heard about Russo from the demon underground and sought her out, begging her indulgence in working and torturing me until I was the most miserable man undead."   
  
"Help is so difficult to find these days, and with the bonus of amusing ourselves with his toadying, it was just too delicious to decline. Of course, I could release him from his indenture . . ."  
  
"Never, my savage lady! Don't make me spend a single minute searching for someone else to justify my appalling waste of an existence by crawling, begging for scraps of torture, and performing the ugly, demeaning tasks that are no more than my due! It'll take hours to find someone else to abuse me properly, and the likes of my kind can't be allowed so much undeserved relief!"   
  
Both Russo and Rayne looked vastly entertained while Buffy stared at Angel aghast.   
  
"You chose this?!? It isn't a spell, you're not chained in the basement between septic tank scrubbings?"  
  
"Only when I ask to be," Angel answered, "it was good to see you again, Buffy, but bring lighter fluid the next time you visit. These matches don't go that far on their own."  
  
"Party favors aside, Miss Summers, do come back when you have time for a real visit; I have oodles of things to ask you. Tell William for me that I would love to see him again" Russo said with a wicked smile.  
  
"Quite. Don't be a stranger, Buffy," Rayne told her as she turned to go, "we can always use a fourth . . . for dinner."  
  
Not bothering to dignify that with a reply, Buffy left the mansion. She was mission-less here. Angel was where he wanted to be.   
  
As Buffy approached the Jag at the gate, she noticed Giles' rental car was parked beside it, and Giles, Dawn and Xander were waiting with Spike.   
  
"I called for back up," Spike said, "just in case. Actually called for Giles and Harris, but the Bit came along too. Seems she threatened to knock the two of them unconscious with her stun gun, tie them up and come here by herself if they tried to leave without her. Where does she get it from?"  
  
"Where's Angel?" Xander asked, looking to see if the hulking vampire was sneaking in behind the tiny Slayer.  
  
"He's not a captive," Buffy explained. "He wants to be there, paying for his sins. I don't know what's happened to him, whether it's magical or emotional, but I don't think Russo's behind it. She's just enjoying it an awful lot. Oh, and Ethan Rayne's there too. Apparently, the two of them are an item."  
  
"Good Lord, Buffy!", Giles exclaimed, "are you all right? Did he do anything to you, make any arcane gestures, sprinkle any grave dust on you?"  
  
"I'm fine, Giles. Ethan was unpleasant, but he didn't try to turn me into a demon shrub or anything. He just stood beside Russo most of the time, kissing her fingers, looking at him like he was hungry and she was a basket of muffins, doing whatever she said. Never thought of him as the taking cues from his girlfriend kind of guy, even a girlfriend like Russo. He's changed."  
  
"Maybe Ethan Rayne finally found a love that conquered his evil," Dawn suggested romantically.  
  
"Or perhaps," Giles suggested, "he simply found a much more powerful worshipper of Chaos to follow."  
  
The entire gang fell silent as they considered this.  
  
"Well!" Xander said suddenly in a loud, cheerful voice, "let's get the Hell out of LA!"  
  
"Agreed." Giles shook off the cold chill inching down his spine, "Buffy, where . . ."  
  
"Just drive," the Slayer said.  
  
TBC 


	3. Viva Las Vegas

Episode 8.3: Viva Las Vegas!  
  
Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME, I own nothing else and only play.  
  
Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS – basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye.  
  
Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS, hence the Mary Sue-ness of this fan fic. Episode 3 features Merrin, with walk-ons by Ed and Sarah Jane. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards for demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.  
  
The school bus hurtled along highway 15, across the long desert between LA and Las Vegas. Giles was the only one left awake, and he needed to concentrate on driving; he was fairly certain that he'd run over a turtle, or at least a tin can, sometime earlier.  
  
Xander'd spent the last of their week at the Best Western tearing the inside of the school bus apart and refitting it for group travel. There were still 3 rows of seats at the front, but cots and a curtained off dressing area had taken over the back.  
  
Xander was sleeping now, though it was barely past 8 p.m. He'd pushed himself to finish before their time at the hotel ran out, and had collapsed shortly after the trip began. This had been a great relief to Giles. While providing what little help he could with the refitting, Giles had endured 17 Partridge family jokes and one rendition of "Hey, Hey, We're the Monkees" from the increasingly loopy carpenter. Xander rarely mixed his pop culture references so clumsily.  
  
Declaring that she needed to be fresh for the high demon population they were both certain Las Vegas enjoyed, Buffy had taken the cot across from Xander and fallen instantly asleep in the catlike way she'd recently developed. Giles was glad of the lack of company; it gave him time to sort through his own thoughts about their future.  
  
The day before they'd left LA, Giles had received a checkbook and two credit cards in the mail. Kennedy's family had taken care of their immediate financial problems by setting up, and funding, a checking account in Giles' name, and having cards issued for him and Buffy. The best part of this, in Giles' opinion, was that it allowed the Slayer to perk herself up, and get Dawn out from underfoot by shopping for the trip. Giles wasn't convinced that all their purchases were strictly trip related, but he lacked the desire to quiz them about it. He'd do that later.  
  
Somewhere ahead of them on the dark highway were Spike and Dawn in Karen's Jag. The older Slayer had been suddenly called out of state while Spike and Buffy were confronting Russo the Sorceress. This, according to Spike, was commonplace in Karen's hectic life, and she'd left him the use of her car.  
  
Realizing that Dawn was unlikely to see the inside of a high school ever again, Giles decided to finish her basic education himself. Since Spike had received a proper upper-middle class gentleman's education before being vamped, and had seen a good deal of history since (and please God, Giles prayed, not caused too much of it), Giles persuaded him to take over the instruction of classic literature and history. With any luck, Spike was following Giles' meticulous lesson plan or at least mentioning Chaucer.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------  
  
". . . and that was one of the more interesting regicides of the Middle Ages", Spike said.  
  
"Wow," Dawn squeaked, saucer-eyed, "they actually put a red-hot poker up his . . ." Dawn stopped, feeling nauseous and trying not to squirm in her seat too obviously.  
  
"Yeah. Always thought that was overkill meself. It's not like the bugger had any chance of holding his own. Now when I sent the Order of Taraka after your sister . . .", Spike continued as the Jag tore past the town of Spring Valley on its way into Vegas.  
  
"Well, what do you know about that?" Spike asked a while later, looking up at a large billboard.  
  
"Um, I'm guessing that's Lorne? He's awfully green, isn't he?"  
  
"He is that." Spike flipped open his cell phone, called Giles and gave him the address of Lorne's new club. Great little gadgets, these things, and it had only taken him 3 months to convince Giles to get one. He'd expected the determinedly old-fashioned man to put up more of a fight. At this rate, Spike thought, he'd have Giles using a laptop as soon as 2010.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Spike and Dawn were walking into the new Caritas, much like the old Caritas. Spike wondered if Lorne had found some new Furies to spell the place for him. It was busy, and Dawn was breathlessly naming the varieties of demons she saw while Spike surveyed the crowd for possible troublemakers. Thankfully, they appeared to be only the usual merry drunks.  
  
"Good golly, Miss Molly! Is that Spike I see?" Lorne called out as he rushed over to the pair, and embraced Spike warmly. "Is this gorgeous crumb cake Dawn? Spike, honey, you need to update your pictures. This is a beautiful woman, not a pretty girl."  
  
Dawn giggled girlishly, then blushed with embarrassment, silently vowing to act more sophisticated the next time she was lavishly praised.  
  
Lorne gestured for drinks to be brought over, and escorted them to a table. "I've got to tell you, I've been frantic ever since I heard that Sunnydale had suddenly disappeared. Everything was so crazy after AI disintegrated, and I kept intending to get in touch with you but you know how it is when you're trying to un-topsy the turvy your life is in. Then I heard the whole town of Sunnydale had pulled a Judge Carter, or maybe I should say a Judge Crater, and, well, I thought the worst."  
  
"You weren't wrong," Spike replied. "Most of the residents finally woke up out of whatever denial they'd been living in and beat it out of the place before the end, leaving just the good guys and bad guys doing a last stand. Weren't many survivors."  
  
"And most of those are Slayers", Dawn chimed in, "about a dozen of them."  
  
"Wait a minute – these are the one girl in all the world girls?" Lorne asked, confused.  
  
"Not just one anymore, and a hell of a lot more than a dozen all told", Spike confirmed.  
  
"Willow did a spell, turned all the Potentials everywhere into Slayers so the ones with us at the Hellmouth would have a better chance of fighting the First Evil's hordes", Dawn continued excitedly. "There are thousands of Slayers now, maybe even millions!"  
  
"Evil-doers beware," Lorne joked nervously. "Say, these super-powerful chiclets do know the difference between bad demons and upstanding citizens, right?"  
  
"Got Wood, a Friend of Buffy type, and Faith working on that angle. They're across the pond now, rounding up left over Watchers and matching them with new Slayers, getting the girls up to speed on how, who, what and why to kill. 'Spect we'll be heading into that as well, soon as Buffy gets her Angel closure." Spike said. "What happened to the tosser?"  
  
"We could all do with a bit of Angel closure," Lorne sighed. He took a long pull on his Seabreeze, and started the story. "As to what happened to him, damned if I know. One day he was fine – or at least no more broody than usual – and the next day, he was Mr. Dwelling-at-the-bottom-of-a-pit- of-angst. He dissolved AI, made a lengthy, incoherent speech about penitence, then adios. Two days later, while we were all still trying to get our bearings, W&H blew the Hyperion to bits. They were real ticked off when they found out Angel had already vamoosed the good guy business, apparently the cost of the dynamite was coming out of someone's salary. After that, everything fell apart. Cordy and Wes didn't even say goodbye; just left messages and cleared out in separate directions. I felt overdue for a change and what better place for a new leaf than Las Vegas? Fred wanted to go back to Texas, Gunn didn't and they split the difference by following me. Then Fred split entirely, back to Texas after all. The homesickness got to be too much, a case of so near yet so far, you know? She just had to close the gap. Gunn's still here. He's getting his GED at the city college, talking about studying law."  
  
"Charlie wants to be a lawyer?!" Spike asked, amazed. "Damn, if there was ever a guy who wasn't a suit."  
  
"It's got something to do with fighting the beast on all levels. He's envisioning a Wolfram & Hart for the shining armor crowd. In the meantime, he's working for a demon fighting outfit called Shadow Dweller Exterminators." At Spike's cocked eyebrow, Lorne said "I'll let them explain. It's quite a story."  
  
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Leaving Dawn in Lorne's care, and hoping she didn't talk the easy-going demon's ear off, Spike took off to look up Gunn. He found the well-lit offices of Shadow Dweller Exterminators and walked in, feeling the "yellow alert" go off inside the three people standing in the lobby.  
  
"Can I help you?" a petite, dark-haired woman asked politely. She looked like the love child of Audrey Hepburn and a wandering Romany, with large, grey doe eyes and a short crop of black hair so silky it swung like a curtain at the least movement of her head.  
  
This did nothing to distract Spike's awareness from the tall woman with the all-over wheat coloring, or the taller dark haired man, both of whom had hands in deep pockets that Spike knew did not contain guns. Keeping his face human and his own hands in plain sight, he answered lightly, "Yeah, luv. Lookin' for a mate of mine."  
  
"And you found him!" Charles Gunn said as he entered the lobby from the back, and gave the vampire a bear hug. "Guys, chill. This is Spike."  
  
The other humans paid Spike the compliment of relaxing, but only a little. "Lorne called to tell me you were alive and headed our way. Let me introduce you. This is Merrin, the boss of us." Gunn gestured to the delicate brunette. Spike looked her over with an experienced eye; he was willing to bet big money she was nearly as lethal as Buffy.  
  
"And this is Sarah Jane, and beside her is Ed." The tall blonde with the sturdy build of the farm wife she'd once been, and the slimmer, taller man with his dark hair in a long braid, nodded warily.  
  
Gunn turned back to Spike. "Listen, bro, you need a place to stay, I got a spare bedroom. Or is Karen with you?"  
  
The quick glance Merrin gave Gunn wasn't lost on Spike. Grass wasn't growing under that man's feet, he thought amused.  
  
"No, Karen's off again, but I do have traveling companions you'd like to meet. The Slayer went looking for her ex, found him and is now looking for someone to tell her what-the-hell?"  
  
"What-the-hell is right," Gunn replied, "the man's prone to brooding but no way is what happened to him natural. I'm looking at W&H for the bad guys in this, but I can't prove it. Hell, it could be anybody with a hard-on for Angel. There's no shortage of people and things he pissed off in LA."  
  
"You and Buffy need to talk. In the meantime, I left the Bit waiting at Lorne's place, and I need to find digs for 5 before the big yellow bus gets here."  
  
"You can explain that later. Give me a minute, and I'll show you a good place. Reasonable rates, minimum drunks."  
  
Nodding politely to the others, Spike left. As soon as the door snicked shut behind him, three people let out a slow sigh of relief. Gunn grinned and shook his head at them. "Guys, I told you, he's playing on our team now."  
  
"I know, but it's still a little hard to take in. The legendary dark warrior fighting on the side of goodness and light. He's a very . . . unsettling . . . presence," Merrin said.  
  
"Meaning you were drooling at him behind my back", Gunn joked.  
  
"I was not drooling", Merrin said with dignity, "I was quietly ogling. That's very different."  
  
"I was drooling." Sarah Jane confessed, "Jiminy Christmas, he's a looker!"  
  
"Got to admit", Ed contributed, "that old photo on the Demons, Demons, Demons website doesn't do him any justice."  
  
"Charles, I'd love to meet the Slayer," Merrin put in, "and talk to her about all the odd reports we've been getting lately. I'll meet you at Lorne's, just give me a call when everybody's there. Dinner's on me."  
  
"Sure thing, boss. Catch you all later," Gunn said, and gave Merrin the slow smile that made her heart beat fast. She looked at the tall, handsome man and wished the others weren't in the room.  
  
"Oh, kiss him already," Ed said as Sarah Jane nodded, "it's not like we don't know."  
  
Laughing at the failure of her attempts to be discrete, Merrin wrapped her arms around Gunn's neck and gave him a proper goodbye.  
  
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Buffy shifted back and forth on her feet nervously as she stood at a small table in a back corner of the club. She swallowed a few times and then began:  
  
"The itsty-bitsy spider climbed up the water spout . . ."  
  
The school bus had finally lumbered into Las Vegas about an hour ago, and Giles found a parking spot not too far from Caritas. Xander had been easily awakened by the words "nickel slots" and, armed with free beer and plates of buffalo wings, hadn't left the Caritas slots yet.  
  
Giles was slowly sipping some excellent whiskey (Tennessee whiskey, but excellent nonetheless) while listening to Dawn and a young Evad demon share a microphone on stage and sing "Paint It Black" in a lively, upbeat manner. Honestly, children these days had no respect for the classics.  
  
Lorne waited for Buffy to finish her ditty. "Interesting," he said when she warbled the last note, "what made you choose that song?"  
  
"It was the only one I could remember all the words to, off the top of my head at least" Buffy admitted sheepishly. "I could remember more songs if I had more time, or some sheet music, or . . ."  
  
"No, no. That was fine, Lamb Chop. In fact, it was so good that I've got nothing to add – just follow the song and you'll get where you're going." At Buffy's disappointed expression, Lorne continued, "But if you'd like the fleshed out version . . ."  
  
While Lorne humored the Slayer, Spike caught up with Gunn and Merrin. "I was sorry to see Fred go, but we both knew we weren't meant to share the same life", Gunn explained. "You know how it is, different enough to attract, but too different to stick. She's at Texas A&M now, turning heads all over the physics world."  
  
"And then you met Merrin," Spike prompted.  
  
Gunn and Merrin exchanged a smile at the memory. "We met while patrolling," Merrin said. "I was out with some of my people, looking for an Acceber cult that was planning a ritual sacrifice of Michigan tourists – we never found out why specifically Michiganders. When we found them, Charles had beaten us to the punch and was handling himself so well that I offered him a job on the spot. Or rather, during the clean-up."  
  
"Well, I came across the ritual accidentally." Gunn admitted. "I was missing the action and started patrolling again, nights I didn't have a class at the city college. One thing I learned real quick is that separating the good from the bad in Las Vegas is a challenge. Half the demons are as harmless as Lorne, and half the humans could take Angelus to school. Those bound up tourists might have been indulging in some sex kink thing with the cult, that happens all the time here. I trusted my instincts, went in for the rescue and didn't wind up embarrassed afterwards."  
  
"Lorne tells me Shadow Dweller Exterminator's has an interesting story behind it. The name alone's got my interest."  
  
"It's a rather long story", Merrin said dismissively.  
  
"Not going anywhere until tomorrow", Spike returned, lighting up a cigarette and settling in.  
  
"All right, I'll start at the very beginning. I come from circus folk." Merrin stopped automatically for Spike's reaction, but he looked as if everyone told him they came from circus folk. Obscurely pleased not to hear the usual jokes, she went on. "My grandfather had an ambition to bring the traveling circus back to small town America. We toured the 'blue highway' circuit, all the tiny, remote places. I was trained as an escape artist, which was probably the only thing that saved my life when a mountain community we were playing was hit by Hellions. I didn't even believe in demons until then, thought it was just a lot of old people talk. The Hellions went through that town and our circus like we were tissue paper. Seven of us got away, all badly wounded."  
  
"She's being modest", Gunn interjected. "Merrin rescued four of those other survivors herself."  
  
"It wasn't enough", Merrin sighed. "I thought we'd never reach the highway, and a call box. By the time the nearest sheriff's department got to the town, the Hellion's had moved on. Everyone we knew, every one we loved was dead."  
  
Merrin took a sip of her drink to steady herself, then continued. "When we were finally released from the hospital, we banded together, tracked down the Hellion gang, and killed them. After that, well, none of us had a home or family to return to so we decided to put what we'd learned during a year of Hellion hunting to professional use. We were near Vegas, and that seemed as good a place as any, so we settled here. The youngest member of our group, who was into comic books at the time, thought up our name. We became successful very quickly although, as Charles pointed out, there were some hard lessons to learn about distinguishing good from bad. Books and their covers," Merrin mused. "I guess it wasn't that long a story after all."  
  
"Long enough to have lived through," Spike said knowingly.  
  
The trio sat quietly and drank their drinks until Buffy and Giles joined them. "Well, I guess I'm on mop up duty", Buffy said. "At least, I think that was what Lorne was telling me. Soothsayers seem to have an obligation to be oblique."  
  
"In other words, we're on the look-out for former potentials and strange events." Giles translated. "We're finishing what we started when we triggered all the other Slayers." Noticing the puzzled look on Merrin's and Gunn's face, Giles told them about the recent Slayer explosion.  
  
"That could explain all the reports we've been getting of very unexpected people suddenly taking up the fight against evil," Merrin said. "We've been establishing a network of informants since we started in Vegas, trying to keep tabs on major evil outbreaks but lately it's been turning up outbreaks of heroism – all from women."  
  
"Gotta be our Slayers", Buffy said, eyes brightening. "I say we start looking them up pronto. I've got a destiny to fulfill here."  
  
"What about the poofter?" Spike asked. "I hate to admit it, but I'd like to fix what happened to him. That much angst should be illegal."  
  
"We've got feelers out about Angel's predicament, though we haven't come up with anything yet. Still, I think we're better placed to run this down, with the connections we've already got. Let us work on Angel for you, so you can concentrate on the new Slayers." Merrin offered.  
  
"Yeah, I know you have a past with him, Buffy, but I owe him a lot too," Gunn said. "I want to stay on this personally, as Angel's friend."  
  
Buffy nodded, she was beginning to accept that getting help could be a good thing.  
  
Merrin rooted around in her attaché case, brought out a sheaf of reports and handed them over to Giles. "I made copies for you of the most recent hero outbreaks", she said, "some are relatively close by."  
  
Giles took the reports, began to look through them, then stopped. "This will have to wait until tomorrow" he said, "I'm afraid I need a full night's sleep now."  
  
"Got us rooms in a motel Gunn recommended" Spike told him. "You lot can crash tonight, do your research or," Spike glanced over at Xander and his cupful of nickels, "do the Vegas thing tomorrow while I crash and we'll take off tomorrow night."  
  
"Good enough", Giles said, refusing to think about what Spike was going to be doing tonight while they slept. "Is there parking for a bus at this motel?"  
  
"Probably not at this time of night; this is Vegas' middle of the work day. I've got my car here", Merrin said, gesturing to the window where they could see a midnight blue Lexus coupe parked outside. "Spike and I can drive everyone to the motel, and you can come back for the bus when you're ready. It'll be safe where it is."  
  
"Excellent", Giles was relieved at how well everything was turning out. Angel was still a puzzle, but one he trusted Merrin and Gunn to solve, and the "Scooby Gang" could properly concentrate on finding and guiding new, young Slayers. The future was finally looking to be free of surprises.  
  
TBC 


	4. City by the Bay

**Episode 8.4: City by the Bay**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 4 features Myrl. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

Xander was backed up against a tall brick wall that dead-ended an alley, menaced by the undead. How had it happened? Like this: a road worn Giles and Dawn, having shared driving duty from Las Vegas, crashed the minute they reached the hotel Spike found for them in San Francisco. Though no one trusted Buffy behind a wheel, she had done her part by helping keep the drivers awake and then snuggled up with Dawn for a well earned nap. Even Spike had opted for daylight downtime rather than stay up to watch his soaps.

Xander, however, was off driving duty because of the eye situation and, having slept through the long ride, was awake to consume his minimum daily requirement of cartoons. That done, and bored with his own company, he decided to explore the city on foot. He thought he'd be safe in the middle of the day, but vamps had caught him taking a shady short cut and given chase, keeping him hemmed into the shadows. Now two large, well-muscled vampires were closing in on him, grinning.

"Say, you two look like you spend a lot of time at the gym," Xander joked nervously, looking around for a nonexistent escape. "Not that I mean anything by that, I'm sure you're both regular guys, I mean, not that there's anything wrong with not being a regular guy, I mean, I mean, not that you couldn't be regular guys and still be, you know . . . I mean . . ."

Xander gave up. Both vamps now looked pissed as well as hungry. Even if they weren't looking for dinner, they'd probably kill him for questioning their manhood, or for being a homophobe, or both. He was dead; he just hoped it would be quick.

Surprisingly, it was. One vamp vanished in a sudden burst of dust while the other spun around under the force of an unseen kick and lost its head an instant later. Behind the veil of falling dust stood a sweet-faced elderly woman with twinkling brown eyes and a poof of white hair like dandelion fluff.

"My goodness, young man, that was certainly close!" she said cheerfully. Xander fainted.

When he came to, he was seated in a very large, very comfortable armchair in a snug, tidy house with lace curtains on the windows and the scent of daffodils coming in with the breeze. He could hear someone bustling around in another room, and shortly his savior appeared with a tea tray.

"Finally awake, I see. I was beginning to worry about you, wondering if I should call a doctor. It was no surprise to me you fainted after all that running on such a hot day, but you were out so long I thought you might have a concussion. Do you take cream in your tea?"

"I, uh, no, thanks. Where am I?" Xander asked, taking the teacup she handed him and eyeing a plate of cookies.

"My home. I live quite close by, and carried you here after your set-to with those undead gentlemen." At Xander's dropped jaw, she continued, "Now, don't think a thing of it -- you're lighter than you look and it was no trouble at all. Have a cookie."

Choosing a tasty looking confection with a cherry on top, Xander tried to fight off the Alice-in-Wonderland feeling that was threatening to completely disorient him. Glancing out the window, he gave the fight up. He might be lighter than he looked (he'd still start that diet tomorrow) but the helpful old woman's idea of "no trouble at all" made him feel woozy again. Her little house was set at the top of a hill, with what looked like 250 steep steps from the front door to the street.

Settling comfortably in a nearby chair with her cup of tea, the old woman introduced herself. "I'm Myrl," she said. "Do you have anyone in the city you can call to come for you?" Myrl stirred her tea and took a contented sip.

"People in the city I can call," Xander thought, his ten thousand swirling thoughts screeching to a halt in front of the only one he could understand before he realized he didn't remember the name of the hotel they'd checked into.

Fortunately, Myrl recognized the place by Xander's description and the Giles, Buffy and Dawn were soon collected in her parlor, drinking tea and munching cookies. "Now, let me see if I understand this," Giles asked, "Less than a year ago you experienced a sudden surge of energy and strength?"

"Yes, it was just marvelous. I'd say I felt like a girl again, but I never felt that good before, even in my teens. One day I had all the usual twinges and aches, and the next I was running up and down the stairs. The first day of the "new me" I chased down and marched a purse snatcher to the police station, climbed up a tree to rescue my neighbor's cat, then climbed up the tree to rescue my neighbor and finally killed a vampire I met while walking home from the movies. I had no idea vampires really existed -- thank goodness for that picket fence!"

"Dear God," Giles whispered, slipping his glasses off, "you're the Slayer we're looking for."

"OK, somebody explain to me how this happened," a baffled Buffy asked. "I get Karen, but how on Earth could Will's spell have triggered Myrl? She's way too old to have been a Potential, she has grandkids too old to be Potentials! Oh, um, no offense."

"None taken, dear. Who's this Will fellow? What's a Slayer?"

"I got it!" Dawn yelled excitedly, overriding Myrl's questions. "It's like Buffy still having all her Slayer powers even after Kendra was called. If it's once a Slayer, always a Slayer, then it must be once a Potential, always a Potential!"

Buffy gaped at her sister open-mouthed while Xander muttered "oh, Jesus!" and Giles finished cleaning his glasses.

"Dawn is right, Myrl is proof of that," Giles said. "It occurred to me this might happen, but the need to defeat the First Evil was so great, I decided it was an acceptable risk . . . if we managed to survive. Now the risk is realized, and what we thought would be a multitude is a legion."

"Damn, Rupes," came Spike's voice from outside the window, "this just got a whole lot more interesting." Spike leaned on the sill grinning, framed by the twilight. "Now the forces of evil don't have just girly Slayers to worry about, but mumsy and granny Slayers too."

Myrl stared at Spike. "If I'm not mistaken, you're a vampire," she said.

"You're not mistaken. William the Bloody, aka Spike, former Big Bad, current protector of the deserving innocent and seeker of entertaining kills. Demonic entertainment." Spike emphasized at Myrl's raised eyebrows. "And as tasty as Slayers are, I'm waiting for one to go bad again before I have a really fine meal. Can I come in?"

"He's an associate of yours?" Myrl asked Giles. At the Englishman's nod, she opened the door for the vampire. "Come in then, William. By your accent, you do take cream in your tea."

Spike sauntered into the room, took the proffered cup with a murmur of thanks and went to stand by Dawn. Buffy was wondering if Spike could look any more incongruous than he did standing there dressed in black and leather, holding a dainty china tea cup, when he picked up a snickerdoodle and started nibbling on it. Yep, she thought, he could.

"Slayers are girls, and now women as well, imbued by ancient magicks with great strength, agility and an instinct for hunting demons," Giles said, dragging them back to the point. "Until recently, only one girl in the world was a Slayer although many more were potential Slayers. A Potential would be chosen as a Slayer only when the previous Slayer died."

"_One_ girl, in a world full of demons?" Myrl questioned. "That must have been very hard on those girls."

"Each Slayer did have a Watcher -- a trained, experienced guide, such as myself, who helped hone her skills and did much of the research in finding and averting evil. But you're right; it was very hard on the girls. They tended to live only a few years after being called."

"I see," Myrl said carefully. "Well, it's not that I don't enjoy the new me, but that does take a little of the bloom off the rose."

"It wasn't a unilateral decision," Buffy said defensively. "I asked everyone if they were on board first."

"Everyone. That must have been a very fast trip to ask everyone and get back in time for this big fight," Myrl observed.

"Well, not _everyone_ everyone," Buffy admitted, flustered. "But everyone who . . . " Buffy paused, not wanting to say "counted", " . . . was going to be in the big fight . . . and endangered . . . right away . . . "

"It's all right, dear. It's a little disturbing but I understand the position you must have been in to take a step like this." Myrl glanced quickly between Buffy and Giles. "Are the Watchers all men?"

"No, though the job tends to run in families. My father and his mother were Watchers." Giles told her. "We study for many years, from childhood usually, to acquire the knowledge and skills that enable us to train a Potential to become a Slayer. If and when that happens."

"Giles," Dawn asked suddenly, "why _are_ Slayers always girls?"

"I guess the First Watchers figured we were best for the job," Buffy butted in.

"Er, well, men could always become champions. If the Powers That Be sponsor a champion it's nearly the same as being a Slayer," Giles hedged.

"Probably thought girls were better 'cause they were more expendable." Spike remarked, to Buffy's outrage. "Hey, not a personal opinion, Summers, but consider the time -- hardly a golden age for the ladies."

"We all have our theories." Giles said, trying to get off the subject, "Now . . . "

"It's completely wrong-headed, if you ask me," Spike bulldozed on, "any one with half a brain cell working knows that when there's killing to be done, you take out more males than females. One bloke can knock up a thousand birds, if he puts his back into it, so you don't need that many XY types around. You've noticed most vamps are male, right? That's why -- more males get vamped 'cause more males get killed, and more females are left alive to whelp the next generation of food."

"Puts his back into it," Xander chuckled, then caught sight of several female glares. Regrouping quickly, he gave Spike a severe look and told him that wasn't funny at all. Spike smiled at Xander in a way that made the human rub his neck nervously.

"This history is all very interesting," Myrl said, "and there seems to be quite a sizable organization supporting Slayers, yet I've never even heard stories or legends suggesting such girls exist. It seems there would be some talk over the ages."

"We do try to keep it quiet," Giles said, "though it'll be rather more difficult now with so many Slayers about. Still, it's easier to combat the demon world if we aren't in the public eye."

"Also, we try to avoid the harmless nut label." Buffy joked.

"And the complete psycho space case label. There can be so much judgment when you go around talking about getting vamp dust and Erialc demon goo out of your clothes." Xander added.

"Be that as it may," Giles overrode the chatter, "we need to get Myrl set up with a Watcher. I'll get in contact with Wood and Faith, and perhaps Gunn and Merrin as well . . . should Gunn and Merrin be working with Wood and Faith? With so many Slayers, it would be useful for the Council to have headquarters in other countries and . . . "

"Giles," Buffy said, enunciating clearly, "you're wandering again."

"What? Oh, yes, quite. Well, I'll get the details worked out before we leave." Giles told Myrl.

"I look forward to it." Myrl said. "Retirement was a bore anyway. Can I treat you to dinner? There's an excellent seafood place near the docks, if you like seafood. My car is right outside; I can show you the city along the way."

After a consenting chorus, they trouped down to the street where Myrl pulled out the keys to a cherry red Corvette. Xander and Spike whistled in unison.

"It is a beauty, isn't it? My kids and the car were all I took away in the divorce settlement years ago. I definitely got the better deal." Myrl said, patting the hood of the car fondly. "Who wants to ride with me?"

In a stereo of shrieked "me's!" Xander and Dawn piled into the Vette, leaving Buffy and Giles to follow with Spike in the Jag. Myrl took off in a spray of gravel, and Spike slammed on the accelerator to catch up.

"Wonder if she's going down Lombard Street?" he mused as the two cars screamed around a sharp corner. "That should be fun."

"I don't want to hear another word about my driving." Buffy said evenly, both hands clutching the dashboard. "It's obviously some kind of Slayer kamikaze thing."

"Nonsense, Buffy, there's no comparison at all." Giles, who'd opened his eyes to observe Myrl's driving style, shut them again as both Jag and Vette clocked air time. "Myrl clearly has control of the car and knows what she's doing."

"Yeah," Spike chimed in, "she's just doing it very, very fast."

A few harrowing eternities later, Myrl and Spike pulled up to the docks, having completed a light speed tour of the city. Xander and Dawn, still high on adrenalin, were babbling a mile a minute about the coolness of both the city and the Corvette, while Giles concentrated on not throwing himself to the ground to kiss it.

Buffy and Spike joined Myrl in enjoying the bracing sea air. "I remember this spot," Spike reminisced, "I met Jack Kerouac right over there. Blighter was high as a kite and I was going to take a hit off him when I started to make out what he was mumbling. It sounded right interesting, so I took him to a coffee house instead and kept him talking until he finally came down. I told him he was lucky he had talent and cleared out without touching him. I may have been the first person to hear a rough draft of _Dharma Bums_".

Buffy nodded seriously and made a mental note to ask Giles who Kerouac was, while Myrl sighed that she'd never been able to appreciate the Beats and had to agree with Capote about Kerouac. While Myrl and Spike debated the relative social contributions of Charles Bukowski and Lenny Bruce, Buffy began sniffing around the area. She knew there was something undead nearby, but the scent was very weak. Fledgling, maybe, or minion.

A skinny figure clad in an over-large black cape swirled quickly out of the shadows at her. "Mortal," it intoned, "you have trespassed in the realms of darkness and mystery. Your life is forfeit . . . uh oh."

It stopped talking, having caught sight of the amused Myrl and a scary, icily contemptuous vampire standing behind the tiny, cute blonde.

"_Hammer_ vampires." Spike snorted in disgust. "I'll leave this to your expertise." His black leather duster flaring around him, Spike spun on his heel and stalked off.

"Now, Albert, I warned you boys about this. You feed only off donors or I'll kill you. I have my community responsibilities," Myrl told the hapless vampire as she came to stand beside Buffy.

"Yes, Mrs. Witherow." the vamp muttered glumly, then caught himself, straightened to his full string bean height and advanced on the two women threateningly. "Foolish old English teacher! You will not outlive this night for . . . "

Whatever plans Albert was about to spill, villain-like, before the kill were lost as Myrl stepped up to him with a Slayer's graceful speed and popped his head off in an easy, fluid gesture.

"Get _Out_!" Buffy goggled in admiration. "How did you do that?"

"It's quite easy, once you learn the trick. It's all in the wrist." Myrl confided as the dust settled at her feet. "Come on, Albert had a nest with three others like him nearby. We can make good on my threat and practice before getting back to the others."

"Where are Buffy and Myrl going?" Xander asked as Spike rejoined them.

"And did Myrl really do what it looked like she did to that vampire?" Giles added.

"Slayer bonding, no doubt, and yeah, it's a neat little trick with the wrist." Spike replied. "Let's go get a table and order everything. I have a feeling the girls will be hungry when they join us."

Indeed they were. As Spike finished off several bottles of the house grappa, the humans tucked into huge platters of fresh fish, crab and lobster, with Buffy and Myrl packing in twice as much as all the others. Giles, Xander and Dawn, for their separate reasons, silently envied Slayer digestive powers.

Over dessert of sorbets, they chatted. "So, you used to be that Dracu-clone's teacher?" Buffy asked.

"Yes, back in the early 80s. Albert disappeared during his senior year, and no one knew what became of him until I ran into him again after my big change. Poor kid never was very bright, and he was a petty bully as well. Becoming a demon didn't improve him at all. I knew it would end like this eventually, but I still tried to turn him around, as much as possible at this stage. Pure sentiment on my part, but that's my nature. Always a sucker for the kids."

"Wow," Dawn said, "talk about your winner of the Can't Catch a Break prize. He's a permanently teen-aged geek as a vampire and meets up with a Slayer who used to be his high school teacher!"

"You have a very upbeat attitude towards vamps," Xander observed to Myrl. "We're more used to seeing fear and loathing."

"I was a teacher for over 40 years you know, got used to high anxiety very early on. You have to, or you don't have a chance around the kids. Besides, I find it very difficult to hate vampires, however necessary it is to kill them. They're really just 4 years olds with fangs."****

With a massive effort of self-control, Spike managed to swallow his grappa without sputtering. Xander's mouthful of sorbet was not so fortunate. As Buffy cleaned sorbet splatters off her favorite strappy t-shirt, Giles and Dawn fell into deep Watcher talk about the implications of such an observation. It could turn the entire world of vampire slaying on it's ear.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, and ended with the non-Slaying humans returning to the hotel and leaving the demon hunters to their night's hunting. A quick phone call to Robin Wood in England secured a Watcher for Myrl; a bright and energetic young man, according to Wood, who'd been classically trained by the Watcher's Academy. _Good_, thought Giles, _Myrl should take the curl out of his boyish locks and turn him into a real Watcher in no time_.

A less encouraging call came in from Merrin in Las Vegas; she'd had word of troublesome signs and portents in Oregon. Someone, they hadn't tracked down a name yet, was stirring up trouble made from the blackest magicks and things looked to be coming to a head soon. Worst of all, there was an indication that whatever had happened to Angel was connected with the force behind these magicks.

Giles sighed. This was clearly a job for The Slayer, and thank goodness she'd had an easy few weeks that left her well rested and in high spirits. Giles decided to abandon his search for the silver lining, things were definitely not looking up.

TBC

_( credit must be given where it is due. The "4-yr olds with fangs" insight came from the actual real-life Myrl.)_


	5. Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing

**Episode 8.5 Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Thanks to Jen for the title of this episode (I was so at sea over this one). **_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 5 features Clair, who is paired with SuaveXander. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

Buffy came in before first light, bouncy and chipper. "Giles, that Myrl is a pistol!" she enthused, "and did you know that there are demons from 167 different countries settled here?"

"San Francisco is a truly international city." Giles remarked dryly. "We have to leave almost immediately Buffy, where's Spike?"

"Spending the day with an old friend. Giles, we just got here, I haven't even spent any money at Fisherman's Wharf yet! Why are we leaving?"

"I got a call from Merrin last night and . . . "

"Don't tell me, there's doin's a-transpirin' somewhere that's not here," Buffy grumped. "If we were in New York City, there'd be evil rising in New Jersey!"

"There's always evil rising in New Jersey," Giles noted. "Nevertheless, when 'doings transpire' we have a duty that supersedes buying trinkets or seeing the sights. Do you know where we can pick up Spike?"

Buffy briefly considered feigning ignorance, then yielded to her better nature and admitted to having both the address and phone number.

"Call him," Giles told her implacably. "Tell Spike we'll pick him up as soon as Dawn wakes and has a good breakfast. We've got another long drive ahead of us and I need her alert." Taking a look at the despondent Slayer, Giles relented a little, "Ride with Spike. You can stop at Fisherman's Wharf on the way out and catch us up later. Just don't dawdle."

Fresh from her mini-shopping spree at the Wharf, Buffy knocked quickly on the Jag's window to alert Spike to cover himself, then jumped into the car.

"Like the boots, Summers" Spike said, eyeing the new, blood red, embroidered cowboy boots on Buffy's feet, "lovely color."

"My feet are happy," Buffy mused, absentmindedly clicking the heels together. "Do you ever think of your home, William? I mean, your first home, before you died."

Spike glanced at Buffy, surprised by the use of his real name. "The place, no. Think about me mum sometimes. Home's more people than places, anyway, and Dru gave me more of a home than I'd ever had. That was a pretty obvious transition -- Mum to Dru -- but it took me a century to see it. What brought this up, Slayer? Thinkin' about Joyce, or Willow?"

"Both, a little bit. And about having a place that's home, but I guess you're right -- about home being people. People you belong to, people who are like you."

"Don't worry about it, Summers. You've got more of a home now than a lot of buggers have, and it'll get better. I've been around a long time, I know these things."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Buffy grinned, "I'm part of a lot of buggers. What exactly are 'buggers' anyway?"

As Giles listened to Dawn recite her lesson, the black Jag passed them doing at least 90 mph. He had a brief glimpse of Buffy, her bright hair done in braids, waving at them with both hands as the car shot by.

Giles reflected, and not for the first time, that Buffy often looked younger than Dawn these days. At what rate did Slayers, with their superhuman strength and resilience, age if fate allowed them to live more than a few years? So few Slayers had survived to reach their 25th birthdays, and he'd only recently confirmed the existence of those who'd managed to pass it..

Giles wondered how many of the auxiliary Slayers Spike had met through Karen, and if he could get introductions. Long term Slayer aging was a phenomenon well worth study.

They stopped for lunch in Dunsmuir, a little town on the doorstep of Mt. Shasta, one of California's sleeping volcanoes. Spike remained in the car, duster over his face, to nap. He didn't need rest yet, but was hoping for an erotic dream while the others got their feed on.

In the restaurant, Giles settled on a good soup served with truly dreadful crackers, and the rest had grilled cheese sandwiches with fries. Dawn filled what Giles had hoped would be a quiet meal with complaints about her home-schooling.

"You didn't have a 4 hour math lesson, topped off by an oral test!" Dawn huffed to Buffy. "And he won't let me use a calculator."

"Dawn, I've told you many times," Giles explained patiently, "you must learn to use your brain _before_ you rely on a machine. Besides, I did let you use note paper for the harder equations."

"You just wanted to see my work." Dawn sulked.

"Giles is right," Xander said unexpectedly. "You've got a first rate brain, probably in Willow's league, but if you don't learn to use it, it might as well be sludge."

The others stared at him, surprised. "Thank you, Xander, that support was very welcome if . . . do you feel completely well?" Giles asked.

"I feel OK. Maybe a little . . . hey, forget it. I'm just in a weird mood. But I meant what I said about the brain stuff," Xander pointed out to Dawn. Xander went back to his lunch, but he was fighting an uneasy sense of destiny about to eat him whole. He tried to shake it off, but it clung to him like an unwanted admirer.

They ended their long day's drive in Klamath Falls, just over the border between California and Oregon. As picturesque as the city was, Giles selected a secluded motor lodge in a woodsy area outside the city proper. It was still off-season, and there looked to be no other guests, which pleased Giles. He wanted to keep the odd group's profile as low as possible. It had occurred to him they could be taken for a cult, looking and traveling as they did.

Giles glanced over to where Buffy, in the dim twilight of the empty parking lot, was training with Xander and Spike. The men were double-teaming her and faring badly.

The gleeful Slayer was saving her gentler moves for Xander, merely breaking his holds, pushing and tossing him out of the way while concentrating her blows and kicks on the much stronger Spike. Both men were ending up knocked on their asses regularly, with Buffy laughing and egging them on.

Giles gestured Dawn over to him. "I want you to keep on eye on Xander," he told her, "His behavior has seemed erratic ever since lunch."

"I know -- that defense of education thing was way weird." Dawn agreed. "Do we tell Buffy?"

"No," Giles said, "we may be wrong. Xander's been through a lot and this may be just a natural fumbling to regain his emotional balance. I don't think we need to worry Buffy with hazy concerns."

Besides, Giles thought, he had concerns about Buffy herself that he wasn't willing to share yet with her younger sister. The Slayer's sudden tendency to refer to demons as food items was especially unsettling.

Xander stumbled into the motel room, fell over a low chair in classic Rob Petrie style, then tried to haul himself up by grabbing the edge of a table and succeeded only in toppling it over as well.

Giles, awakened by the ruckus, took pity on Xander and got out of bed to give the younger man a hand up off the floor, though not before shrugging a robe on.

"Where have you been, Xander?" he asked reasonably enough. The glowing bedside clock showed it was nearly 4 a.m., and Xander was fully dressed. When Giles had fallen asleep, Xander had been watching TV in his underwear.

"I went . . . out for a . . . snack," Xander gasped. "I met . . . I met . . . " The lights suddenly snapped on, momentarily blinding both men.

"What the hell's going on?" Spike growled from the doorway. "You were trailing fear-scent for over a mile, interrupting a right hearty meal I was makin' of a local pedophile. I had to run after you to keep the damn Bigfoot you'd attracted off your ass, and what's with all the crashin' into things? You haven't been this clumsy since . . . just after you lost the eye you have back."

Giles spun Xander around, staring at the young man's restored face. "Good Lord, Xander! How, when?"

Xander collected himself and tried to explain. "It was _her_! Horrible, evil, terrifying! She was at the 7-11!"

"Why's everybody shouting?", Dawn asked groggily as she and Buffy joined the men. "And who's 'she'?"

"That would be me," a chirpy voice said from behind the collected heroes. Xander shrieked and dove behind Buffy.

"Well, golly gee, I've been waiting years to meet the Slayer and her friends!" exclaimed a tall, slender young woman, tossing a mop of ginger curls perkily. "I can never forgive you for killing Uncle Richie, family honor and all, but it _was_ very clever!"

Giles tightened his robe, suddenly cold. "Your family name is Wilkins, of course," he said, resigned.

"Yes, indeedy! Clair Wilkins, and you're Rupert Giles, Watcher extraordinaire. My uncle told me you were just as sharp as a tack. Oh, it's going to be such a treat matching wits with you all!" Miss Wilkins' wide lavender eyes danced with benign good humor.

"Make her go away! She does terrible things! I . . . I can't take anymore!" Xander whimpered, eyes tightly closed.

"Xander, please calm down. We can't get through this if you fall apart." The group turned as one to the sound of Xander's voice, coming not from behind Buffy but from inside a white Lincoln Continental town car in the parking lot.

Another Xander got out of the car and joined Miss Wilkins. "Isn't this just neato?" she asked, giggling prettily. "I got the idea after I split Angelus from Angel as a birthday gift for my friend Laura. It was her 500th, and I wanted to do something special."

Din promptly exploded.

"_You're_ responsible for Angel!" Oh, and for Xander too!"

"You set _Angelus_ free!"

"Where is the old bastard? I've got several scores to settle!"

"Now, people, people," Clair Wilkins said piously, "not all at once. It's not polite. I'll never tell you the story if you don't behave properly."

"I've got your proper behavior right here," Buffy snarled, moving forward, only to be restrained by Giles and Spike.

"She's a Wilkins, Buffy," Giles whispered. "Listen, then act."

"It's such a pleasure dealing with sensible people!" Miss Wilkins twinkled. "Well, as I said, I wanted to give Angelus to Laura for her birthday, but he was stuck inside Angel and she certainly wouldn't want _him_. I thought of hiring a Toth demon to split them, but have you seen their rates? And their union is just impossible. Then I thought, 'hey, I'm the scion of an evil, magical family, I can figure out how to do this!' And gosh darn if I didn't do just that. Of course, my methods _are_ a little different but they get the job done!"

Xander One whimpered and trembled; even Xander Two shuddered at the memory.

"Then my birthday rolled around and I decided to treat myself." Clair continued. "Having seen a picture of pretty Mr. Harris in a speedo (my uncle had a Sunnydale High year book among his effects) I made my choice. I could have taken him away completely, but I'm a fair woman, there was no reason we couldn't both have a Xander. Though as the one who figured out how to split a human -- a lot harder than splitting a souled vampire, I don't mind telling you -- I feel I'm entitled to the better Xander."

Clair patted Xander Two's arm possessively, while he shot a sympathetic look at the still trembling Xander One.

"And the new eye?" Dawn asked, curious.

"The pirate thing wasn't his best look," Clair said confidentially to the girls. "I figured it was as easy to reconstitute two eyes as one, as long as I was going to the trouble of splitting his whole self in two anyway."

Clair Wilkins' expression became slightly less perky, and a bit more predatory. "Enough chit chat," she said. "I'll be taking my leave now, with my new acquisition, but we will meet again, depend upon it!"

Buffy broke free of Giles and Spike, and launched herself at the Wilkins woman. Ten seconds later she was being bounced off the pavement, deflected by Xander Two.

Before Buffy could get over her astonishment, Spike took her place with the human. Xander Two went under the vampire's swing faster than anyone had ever seen Xander move and kicked Spike's feet out from under him, sending him spinning to the ground, safely away from Clair Wilkins.

Buffy charged in again, determined to either rescue Xander or slap some sense into his second head, she hadn't quite decided yet. Xander Two suddenly flipped over backwards, taking the Slayer off guard and knocking her away, back onto the pavement.

"Where'd you pick that up?" she asked, amazed.

Xander Two shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I've probably been enchanted, along with everything else. I won't leave Clair or let anyone hurt her, but I won't hurt my friends either, not even on her command. It's an awkward situation."

"That's loyalty," Clair Wilkins said warmly. "I admire that. Now I really do want to be getting along, I have plans."

Clair Wilkins got into the passenger side of the luxurious car, and Xander Two took the driver's seat. Seconds later the car purred softly to life and Xander's better half drove out of their lives.

"Bloody Hell," Giles whispered.

It was a quiet group that pulled apart the breakfast junk food a few hours later, after dragging the full story out of a nearly incoherent Xander One.

"It's obvious what we need to do -- get Xander Two back and force this female Wilkins to de-split them. Somehow," Buffy finally said.

"We're goin' to have to find them first. The bint will have money and connections in half the demon world if she's anything like her uncle, and I'm bettin' she is," Spike contributed. "The two of them will be far away by the time we get out of this burg."

"We can do a locater spell, can't we Giles?" Dawn asked.

"Yes, I think you and I can handle that, while Buffy and Spike brainstorm ways of, er, persuading Miss Wilkins. Xander, the bus has been making odd noises lately. We should all be finished with our tasks by the time you've checked the beast out." Speaking more personally, Giles added, "The work will be good for you, take your mind off the recent . . . unpleasantness."

"Giles," Xander One said, looking a little panicked, "I really don't think . . . that is, I'm not sure . . . "

"Trust me, Xander, work is a great healer." Giles patted the young man's hand paternally.

"And it should go faster with your having, you know, both eyes again!" Dawn's comments trailed off, "Shutting up now."

"Well, lets get to it everyone -- we don't want that Wilkins woman getting too much of a head start." Giles said. Dawn and Giles stayed in his room to work the locater spell, while Spike and Buffy went to her room to talk tactics.

An hour later, a small explosion brought them all running from their respective tasks. Buffy, Spike, Dawn and Giles stared in horror at the refitted school bus, burning merrily beside a tearful Xander One.

"I tried to tell you," Xander One said, sniffling, "I can't remember anything about engines, or fixing things or . . . or anything useful! The other Xander has all that!"

"We can't all fit in the Jag, not comfortably anyway." Buffy complained. "And I don't think _anyone_ can fix that bus."

Something detonated quietly inside Giles. "Spike, your keys. Everyone, pack." Giles tore out of the parking lot in the Jag, leaving the others astounded behind him.

"He is coming back, right?" Dawn asked nervously.

"If not, Sis can buy us bus tickets to somewhere." Spike said. "C'mon Niblet, we have soaps to steal."

Several hours later, Giles was indeed back, followed by a salesman driving a Cadillac Escalade SUV, gun metal gray with tinted windows. Dawn and Xander One squealed in unison on discovering the built-in DVD player.

"Finally decided to really start using the card, eh?" Spike asked. "Gotta admit, after only springing it for cheap rooms and diner meals, this is impressive."

"The Kennedys are gracious enough to fund us, and I'm going to give them 'bang for their buck', with the outlay to show for it," Giles gritted.

"No need to convince me, mate, I can't wait to drive this monster meself. Where are we going?"

"Colorado. Dawn and I were able to get a good fix on our Miss Clair Wilkins."

"Took to the mountains to hide?" Spike asked.

"Skiing vacation," Giles answered, returning Spike's keys. "Keep Buffy with you, I'll take the children. Route 97 North, let's go."

TBC


	6. Black Magic Woman

**Episode 8.6 Black Magic Woman: the sorceress' apprentice part 1**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Much belated thanks to Jen and Merrin for their reviewing, editing, proofreading, comments and general education in writing fan fic.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 6 features Benni, who is paired with VampXander. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

Benni woke early that morning, looked out her dorm window at the falling snow and wished she could bag the day's studies. Just two more hours of sleep would be bliss. Unfortunately, she had a mid-term project due on spiritual transfiguration and, unlike her chemistry or world literature studies, she couldn't flake on sorcery. Russo would have her guts for garters -- literally.

Benni sighed while running a comb through her long, straight black hair, her odd, reddish-black eyes distant. She knew what she wanted to do -- transform an ordinary human into a vampire purely by magic -- but she didn't have a subject yet. The niggling of what remained of her conscience insisted she find someone whose life would actually be improved by being vampified but her time was running out. Worst of all, she didn't just have the demanding Russo to worry about, but the possibility of that damn Meghan stealing her thunder. Benni hadn't met Meghan (or Russo for that matter, not face to face) but the other student was her chief competitor for top honors as Russo's apprentice sorceress.

Benni got into her anorak, its thick fabric muffing the tinkling of the 57 pieces of silver jewelry she customarily wore, stamped into her snow boots and set off on foot into the town. She spared a wistful thought for her beloved classic orange Mustang with the black ragtop, but it would never make it through the streets today, not unless she followed a snow plow all over town. At least the car was snug in its' own garage, which was more than Benni could say for herself as she crunched down the snowy streets looking for someone suitably pathetic.

As she rounded a corner, Benni saw a handsome but unusually klutzy young man struggling to gas up an SUV. While she watched, curious, the young man lost control of the gas hose, spraying gasoline all over the surrounding snow and bringing an attendant running, cursing, along with a pretty, brunette teenager. The teenager took control of the situation, calmed down the attendant, finished fueling the SUV and then led the clearly miserable young man away while the attendant cleaned up the gas spill.

"Bingo!" Benni said, a wide smile cracking her chaffed, pretty face.

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"Has anyone seen Xander?" Dawn asked. "He said he was going for a walk after that thing with the car. Shouldn't he be back now?"

"Best to leave him be for a while, Dawn," Giles told her. "He's having a very difficult time of it."

"Yeah, and walkin's one of the few things he can still do without makin' something explode or fall to pieces. Not that the constant trippin' and fallin' isn't comedy of errors in its own right."

"Spike . . . " Buffy began, then reconsidered. "I think he's actually getting worse," she admitted.

"And he's out in the snow!" Dawn was becoming agitated. "What if he starts an avalanche?"

"Not likely, Platelet, not unless he walks a good deal further than he's got the wind for," Spike said. "Besides, he's probably holed up in a coffee shop somewhere, drinkin' more caffeine than's healthy for the human body."

"Maybe we _should_ go looking for Xander, Spike. Him alone in the snow could be all kinds of bad idea," Buffy said.

"Are you sure the two of you will be . . . ," Slayer and vampire gave the Watcher a look, "Of course you will. Silly question."

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Buffy and Spike trudged through the snowy streets, looking for a dark head somewhere.

"What are the chances Xander's sitting right in front of us, completely covered in snow?" Buffy asked. "And aren't you cold?"

"Pretty good, I'd say, sun pampered California boy that he is, adrift in Colorado snow flurries. And I'm a vampire, I'm always cold."

"Wasn't that hard getting used to? Not being warm anymore?"

"I was overwhelmed by other things, like not bein' alive anymore, and havin' Angelus to contend with."

"Yeah, about Angelus. Could you track him -- do some undead feely thing and figure out where he is?" Buffy wondered.

"All I can tell you is he's not nearby." Spike answered. "We're better off relyin' on the mystical duo's locater mojo, or askin' Merrin if she's heard anything from her sources. If Angelus is out and about, there's no way he isn't raisin' Hell somewhere."

A large, furry snowball covered in teeth exploded at them. Startled, Buffy kicked it into the side of a building. It bounced off into the snow and came rolling back at them.

"Yggiz demon, Summers!" Spike warned. "Watch your hands and feet, it's nearly all teeth!"

Buffy snapped off a nearby "for sale" sign and took a swing at the charging Yggiz, sending it flying towards Spike. The vampire caught the round demon by its thick, white fur, swung it a few times, then pitched it back to the Slayer.

Buffy smacked it solidly, sending it flying over Spike's head and down the street, where it eventually collided with a snow covered fire hydrant. It shook itself, bounced a few times while making angry, complaining noises, then came rolling back towards them, fast.

Buffy shrieked like a banshee and charged. She swung at the Yggiz again as it lunged for her face, knocked it hard into the side of the building and then ran it through with the broken end of the sign as it ricocheted back to her.

"Slayer, well played!" Spike yelled. "I think I finally get baseball!"

"Woo!" Buffy said, subconsciously licking her lips, "That was an interesting little appetizer. I've never had anything like _that_ before."

"That's because you've been a warm weather Slayer, Summers," Spike explained, "and Yggiz are cold weather demons. By the by, the traditional way of killing them is a large icicle through the spleen, but that all-American impalement move works too."

"Yeah," came a familiar voice hidden in the shadows between two buildings, "always liked watching you move, Buff."

"Xander?" Buffy called. "Xander! We've been looking all over for you! C'mon, let's get back to the hotel before we freeze; I'm sure Dawn's ordered hot chocolate by now."

She started walking toward the buildings when Spike caught her arm, pulling her back. He had a strange, confused look on his face, his eyes narrowed, wary. They watched as Xander emerged from the shadows.

"Not quite the warm beverage you were thinkin' of, eh, Harris?" Spike asked quietly.

"Not quite," Xander agreed as he approached them, "though you seem fond of it as a change of pace." His expression was coldly confident, his movements sleekly, inhumanly well-coordinated. He was wearing only a thin tee shirt and jeans, and his dark eyes glittered eerily against the flat white pallor of his skin.

Buffy stared at the two men as Xander began slowly circling them. Something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Xander, knock it off. We've got to get back before you freeze to . . ." Buffy stopped, horrified. "But you don't feel . . . I should be able to tell easier than this! I have special Slayer senses!"

Xander shrugged. "Got my ticket punched another way," he informed them. "Poor me, I don't show up on Slayer radar." He laughed lightly.

"Always thought you'd make a good predator, Harris -- all that stored up frustration and outsider rage. It's gratifyin' to be proved right, but it won't help you survive me."

"Bring it on, old man." Xander purred, muscles tensing for an attack, "I've waited years for this."

"NO!" Buffy yelled, then jumped a little at what sounded like her voice in stereo.

"Sorry, two minds with one thought," a well-insulated newcomer said. "As sexy as this is, I'm going to have to call quits on it. I have a report to submit on this project for a well-deserved high grade and Xander's presence is essential. He's the proof of the pudding."

"Who the Hell are you, what have you done, why is Xander . . . " Buffy started.

"Hey, hey, hey! I told you I have a report due, no time to stand around chatting. But, just to be polite, I'm called Benni, though that's not my real name, of course. I'm an apprentice sorceress and I'm damn good too so you'll be hearing more from me. I've changed your friend into a vampire purely through magic, which I think underscores how very good I am. Now, if you don't mind, or even if you do, Tall Dark Sexy and I are off. I'm sure we can find him someone less time consuming to feed on while I submit my report."

With that, Benni tossed sparkly dust over herself and Xander, chanted a bit, and they both winked out, leaving the street empty of anyone but Buffy and Spike.

"Teleportation spell," Spike muttered, "she _is_ good."

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Buffy closed to door to Dawn's bedroom and joined the men in the living room of their suite. Both Giles and Spike were holding a fifth of Jack Daniels, and no glasses. Several more bottles stood on the table between them; Spike had insisted on making a stop for liquor on the way back to the hotel.

"Dawnie finally cry herself to sleep?" Spike asked. Buffy nodded.

"An avenue of release I sometimes yearn for," Giles remarked blearily.

"Snort?" Spike offered the Slayer an unopened bottle.

"Ugh, no. My head's already spinning, thank you."

Buffy sat down and watched the other two drink for awhile. "Guys, we have to talk, make some plans. Xander's dead, and also worse than dead. One of him's been sired by some crazy Mick-ette and the other is the love toy of the Bitch Queen from Hell. Or the other way around, I can't tell anymore, but we have to do something!"

Giles put his bottle down, and picked up his glasses, lying discarded beside the booze. He put them on very carefully.

"We need a witch," Giles said slowly, "we're drowning under a sea of magic. Kicking, punching, staking and fanging aren't going to do any good here. I'm an experienced mage, and Dawn's a gifted beginner, but we need far more power. Spike and I have been discussing it, and there appear to be two options. The first is to use Spike's in with her to appeal to Russo."

"No," Buffy said flatly, "She's . . . "

"Agreed," Giles responded. "In addition to the issue of general trustworthiness, she may well be the sorceress behind this Benni's grade hunt."

"Russo's taken on students for years," Spike explained, "she's probably offering online classes now. There aren't that many magical instructors, so if anyone is studying magic formally in North America, they're probably studying with Russo."

"The other option is finding Willow. The problem is she seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth. Dawn and I have tried several times to get a line on her, without success. I doubt she's left this plane of existence, so she's shielding herself somehow. I only wish I knew why." Giles took another long pull on his whiskey.

"The point is, we need some fairly high level magic from someone close to Willow to put the kibosh on her cloaking device and find her," Spike said.

"Well, close to Willow, that's us! But it hasn't worked, so what do we do?"

"Someone else, Summers, someone a lot more magical and a lot closer to Red. Tara," Spike said.

"Of course!" Buffy brightened up immediately. "Dawn has her address, and she'll help Xander even if she is still angry with Willow."

Spike cleared this throat. "There's another aspect to this that should be helpful. You've been wantin' to meet more auxiliary Slayers, Rupes, and you're gonna get your wish. Tara's Aunt Jen is a Slayer."

"_What?!"_ Buffy yelped

"How can that be? Tara never even mentioned such a thing!" Giles demanded over Buffy's yelp.

"Tara didn't know; her aunt didn't come out until the business with the First started," Spike said. "It was a big secret until then, you know how that family is. Jen figured it was better not to rock their unstable boat any more than necessary."

Spike took a swig from his bottle. "It's about a day's drive from Boulder to Fayetteville, Arkansas, figurin' in stops for sleep and meals. I should be able to catch up with you in about a week, while you're unearthing Red."

"_What?!"_ Buffy yelped repetitiously.

"You're leaving us? Why?" Giles asked, once again ignoring Buffy.

"Got a job waiting for me in Texas, not something I can turn down. Especially not with my accountant sending me snappish emails about my bank balance and the unscheduled sabbatical."

"_Wha_ . . . you have a job?" Buffy glared at Giles before he could override her. "What are you talking about, a _job_."

"I'm talkin' about what I've done to earn money ever since the last time you died, Summers. Remember? Demon hunter, have battle-axe, will travel? It's how I made the money to pay the mortgage on Joyce's house, kept most of the bills paid. You may be getting subsidized by America's elite now, but I'm not. I need to replenish my coffers, besides the client's a friend."

"But, but . . . " Buffy stuttered, "we've lost Willow, and now Xander. I don't like being this pared down."

"You'll be OK on your own for a week or so, you all managed well enough before when I was off on jobs." Spike reminded her. "Besides, you'll have Tara back again for awhile and I'm sure she can find Will for you, if anyone can. And Jen is . . . well, you'll find out."

Spike took Buffy's hand. "You'll be OK, Slayer," he repeated.

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"Swell job on the scrying mirror, hon!" Clair Wilkins said, as the image of Buffy, Spike and Giles faded.

Benni ducked her head, blushing a little. "I taught myself that," she said proudly.

"Well, it looks like the good guys aren't going to be making pests of themselves for awhile, so let's go skiing! I know this charming little dimension that's all alpine mountains and the tourists haven't discovered it yet."

"I can't believe Russo's letting me off on a holiday!"

"Sweetie, you more than earned it with this mid-term project, and she and I both believe in giving back to the youth of our community," Clair said warmly.

She turned to the two Xanders, playing strip poker on Benni's dorm room bed. "Get dressed again, gentlemen. Time to go have some fun!"

**TBC**


	7. Strange Relations

**Episode 8.7 Strange Relations**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Again, many thanks to Merrin and Jen for editing help, comments and review.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 7 features Fenster, who is paired with Fred Burkle, and Mike. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

Spike drove into College Station, Texas, exactly 15 hours after he left Boulder, Colorado. He hadn't stopped once during the drive and his stomach growled hungrily as he passed a strutting jock. _No_, he thought regretfully, _not evil enough. Give him a few years to ripen_.

He found the "English pub" where he was meeting Professor Joe Pennywhistle (aka Fenster) and Fred; it was clearly a place where the dart board would be mere decoration. _Fred chose this_, Spike thought with a grin; she wasn't a serious enough drinker to know the difference between real and fake pubs.

"SPIKE!" Fred's familiar voice hollered as he swaggered into the joint. A second later the vampire was nearly knocked over by a scrawny tornado.

"Nice to see you again too, Slim," he said, returning the human's embrace.

"I was so scared when I heard about Sunnydale disappearin', I just cried for days. Then when Gunn called me and said ya'll were all right, I started cryin' again!"

"She was still bursting into tears periodically when we met," Fenster said.

"It's true, I was just so relieved. Thanks for callin' me yourself as well to let me know you were OK. And for askin' me to look up Fenster; I'd heard about him my second day at A&M, but the stuff I was hearin' . . . well, it made a difference knowin' you knew him."

Fenster's pale, angular face assumed a long-suffering look. "When you go from respected physicist to occult researcher to crypto-zoologist, there tends to be a certain kind of talk."

Fred giggled. "That paper of yours 'On the phenomenon of homosexuality among Amish spirit manifestations' was really a page turner."

"That made your reputation, I'm sure," Spike noted.

"In more ways than one," Fenster admitted ruefully.

"But you two are gettin' on then, yeah?" Spike asked.

"Oh man, thank you for sending her my way!" Fenster replied, eyes alight, "She's absolutely the best normal person I've ever met!"

Spike decided not to bother wrapping his mind around the idea of Fred as "normal"; besides, in Fenster's world she probably was.

"And it's such a blast being around Fenster" added Fred, "I like havin' someone to hang with who knows about, well, the other side of reality. It's nice not havin' to watch what I say all the time."

Fenster nodded. "After years of fighting to get anyone to concede that mythic beasts might possibly, in some form, exist, it was a pleasure meeting someone who not only _knew_ they existed, but had run a sword through a few of them!"

"I was sure the two of you would hit it off, and it was the least I could do, after that business with your great-great-great-grandmum," Spike told Fenster.

Fenster waved this away. "Hey, you did a lot more than most Victorian gents, remembering Gerty in your will, and that before you knew you'd knocked her up with my great-great-grandpa. Pretty classy."

"Wait . . . _Spike's_ your great-whatever-granddaddy!?" Fred asked Fenster, eyes wide. Before he could answer, Fred's head whipped around to Spike, eyes stretching even wider. "_Your_ name is Pennywhistle?!?"

"Yeah. You got somethin' to say about that, Burkle?" Spike growled softly in mock threat.

"No, no." Fred struggled silently for a moment, then sputtered "sorry" and collapsed into snorts of laughter. The men waited her out patiently.

"I _am_ sorry," she said again, wiping away tears, "but neither ya'll look like Pennywhistles."

"Now you know why we change our monikers first chance we get."

"But . . . well, um . . . I didn't think you were married back when you were alive, Spike," Fred said tentatively.

"Wasn't." Spike replied. Fred fidgeted in the following silence. She glanced over to Fenster but he had decided to be unhelpful.

"Soooo . . . she was, like, professional, right?"

"That's right." More silence followed Spike's confirmation. Fred decided to take the plunge.

"How did Gerty know Fenster's great-great-granddaddy was _your_ baby? I mean, well, you know what I mean."

"Same cheekbones," Spike told her, gesturing from his face to Fenster's. "It's a trait of Pennywhistle men."

"Almost makes up for the name," Fenster commented.

"Almost," Spike agreed.

"You know, I never figured to meet one of my great-great-great-grandparents alive, or even sort of alive," Fenster continued thoughtfully, "but it's a strange world. Of course, even with looking into my family history I'd have never found out about Spike if I hadn't already been into the occult. That was a day I'll never forget -- coming across his picture in Gert's old letters to her son and realizing that my great-great-great-grandfather was William the Bloody of the Order of Aurelius fame. I stayed drunk for three days."

"And then?" Fred asked, breathless despite herself.

Fenster shrugged. "I looked him up. Fortunately he was off the all human diet by then."

"And lookin' for work to keep me in blood and smokes. Renewin' the family connection panned out for both of us."

Spike turned to Fenster again. "Speakin' of which . . ."

"Not here," Fenster said, looking over at a carrot-haired man on the other side of the pub. "I need to keep this quiet. Come back to my place, Spike; I've stocked some human blood in the fridge and made up the spare bedroom for you. No need for you to go to a hotel."

The trio stood up. "I've got to take off now too," Fred said. "I've got a new experiment to put to bed, just make sure you call me before the fun starts." She kissed both men and bolted coltishly out the door.

"This is the longest she's gone in days before mentioning her experiment," Fenster said dreamily as he watched Fred depart. "It's been 'string theory this' and 'string theory that' all week. It's just so adorable!"

They walked to Fenster's nearby house. "Who's the bloke that got your back up?" Spike asked.

"Mike the relentless," Fenster groaned, "my own personal cross. He works for the Star Inquirer. He's convinced I'm a personal acquaintance of the Bat Boy and hounds me to get him an interview. I keep trying to tell him the Bat Boy doesn't exist, not like that anyway . . ." Fenster shot Spike a look.

"Not like that," Spike confirmed.

". . . but he won't believe me. It's irksome, but on the other hand his rag is the only publication that gives me regular exposure. Zoological Monthly isn't returning my calls."

"The drawbacks of living in a rational age." Spike commiserated.

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Fenster started the fireplace going for his own sake, then brought Spike a mug of freshly warmed blood.

"Type O still your brand?" he asked.

"Plain and simple, that's how I like my grog," Spike took a good sized swallow. "Now tell me about the problem."

"It started over a week ago," Fenster said, settling in another chair with a glass of whiskey. "Complaints about seeing monsters started coming in, which were initially dismissed as student pranks. Because everything's happened on, or under, the campus grounds, the police are still of that opinion but after a sewer worker nearly had the life scared out of him, the president asked me to look into it quietly.

Spike looked up from his blood. "He's had a few experiences of the weird, then?"

"Some of my research subjects aren't, ah, easily contained."

"And rather useful in proving points when aimed across certain paths?" Spike asked knowingly.

"Not so that they can't still claim believable deniability." Fenster returned, refusing to look abashed.

Spike chuckled. "So tell me about this new beastie."

"The description I got from the sewer worker fits a very rare and exotic creature called an Ennil Beast. Common back when the Byzantine Empire was flourishing, it's assumed to be extinct these days, even by those who accept that it once existed. It somewhat resembles a snail crossed with a squid, is partially aquatic, tentacled, large, fast and strong. It feeds primarily on waste of all kinds -- plant, animal, possibly even industrial. A fertile female is said to lay thousands of eggs that hatch all at once after a few months. The hatchlings are very small, and in the wild they apparently have a number of natural and supernatural predators that reduce their numbers rapidly. My concern is that in a city there'll be no deterrent and, according to records, hungry Ennil Beasts will kill for food when they run out of waste."

"You've got a truly nasty problem, mate, if this thing is in your sewers. You been able to confirm it?"

"Yes. I retraced the sewer worker's steps and caught sight of it. It had female markings and was tending at least one clutch of eggs."

"So my job is kill mama and destroy all the eggs. Getting rid of the female is straightforward enough, but things that lay eggs tend to hide them. I take it you and Fred will be on hand for the egg hunt?"

"Yes and no. From what I've found out, the eggs require constant care until hatching to survive. Once the female is gone, the eggs are doomed. However, killing the female is likely to be more than a one-man job. As I said, it's big, strong, and fast. As an extra treat, it may be capable of spontaneous regeneration. Fred and I are going in as back-up during the fight."

Spike nodded his agreement. He knew Fred could handle herself, and Fenster had been around more than a few demonic blocks.

"Since there've been no deaths, just a lot of scarings, I'll let you and Fred get some decent rest before we take this thing on. We'll start tomorrow just after dusk."

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They picked up Fred on their way to the sewers, and Spike waited till they were nearly at the entrance, and out of sight of passersby, to collar their follower.

"You need something from us?" Spike asked Mike, his hold on the human's throat allowing Mike just enough breath to answer.

"Something's going on," Mike squeaked, "maybe not a bat boy, but something the crypto-zoologist is trying to keep to himself and his friends. I have a by-line and a deadline and I want in." He stared at Spike steadfastly, refusing to be intimidated by his circumstances or comical voice.

"Hell, let him tag along, Spike; he might come in handy as a distraction," Fenster snorted.

"Yeah, I guess he could do that. Just move in fast when we tell you to, mate." Spike let him go and descended into the sewer, followed by Fenster.

"Seriously," Fred said as she passed Mike on her way down, "keep out of the way as much as possible. Things can get crazy fast."

They picked up the weapons Fenster had hidden away earlier at the bottom of the ladder. No projectile weapons, a stray bullet ricocheting would kill the humans faster than the Beast. Fenster had tucked away Spike's battle-axe, Fred's favorite sword, and a hefty spear for himself.

As they moved cautiously down the tunnel, Mike kept up an annoying undertone monologue into his recorder. Spike caught mutters of "dungeons and dragons" as he turned to glare Mike into silence. Mike glared back but stopped talking.

Around a corner Spike caught sight of the Ennil Beast some distance away, fussing over a pile of round, milky looking objects. It was every horrible thing Fenster had described. Spike gestured Fenster and Fred to him, to plan their attack before the Beast noticed them.

"HOLY CRAP!" Mike yelled as he turned the corner.

The Ennil Beast swung towards them and screamed, its bone shattering screech bouncing off the sides of the tunnel and rattling everyone's teeth.

"Nice going, Jimmy Olsen," Spike remarked, vamping out.

Mike stared at him. "HOLY . . ." he began.

"No time for that," Fred told him, "just keep out of the way and try not to die."

Spike charged the Beast with a roar of his own, Fred behind him and Fenster hard on her heels. Spike cut a hard left while Fred and Fenster went right. The Ennil Beast swung limbs out in both directions, knocking Fred into Fenster as Spike spun under the tentacle whipping his way and lopped it off.

The Beast screamed again as dark purple ichor spattered on the already slimy walls of the tunnel, its severed limb twitching weirdly in the muck. It turned its mass around to Spike and lunged. Fred and Fenster found themselves being helped to their feet by the ashen faced Mike.

"It's real," he said numbly, "I mean, it's _really_ real."

"Yep, they usually are," Fred said, quickly wiping the sword handle clean and rejoining the fray. Fenster ran around to start a distracting assault on what he assumed was the thing's backside.

As the Beast roared and began to swing around again, Fred caught it this time and removed another tentacle, then pivoted neatly and slashed across the long torso.

Spike darted in to try for the thing's head but it reacted fast and spun its large body like a top, knocking all three attackers off balance and away from it. With one of its remaining limbs it got Fenster pinned to a wall and surged towards him while the others were still down.

Mike looked around wildly for something he could use as a weapon, found a few bricks and rocks and started heaving them at the Beast, yelling to get its attention.

To Mike's relieved dismay, this worked and the creature started for him. Seconds before being squished, Spike got between them and swung the ax ferociously, taking off a third tentacle and forcing the Beast back.

Fred gave Mike's arm an encouraging squeeze. "Good work with the rocks!" she yelled. "Find some more and keep it up, we need all the help we can get. If we don't win this fight and the eggs hatch, there's no telling how big a catastrophe it will be!"

"_What? _Hold it! HOLD IT!! There's been a misunderstanding!"

The vampire and three humans looked at one another to see who was talking; a phlegmy throat clearing brought their eyes to the Ennil Beast.

"Check the underbelly markings," It said, sloshing around to give them a look. "I'm not a laying Queen; I'm a sterile worker, completely harmless."

Spike looked over to Fenster. "Oops," his progeny said.

"Hey, no harm, no foul. It _is_ hard to tell the difference. And after all, I thought you guys were muggers."

"But why do you have eggs?" Fred asked, pointing to the clutch.

"Those aren't eggs," the Ennil Beast replied, scooping one up and tossing it to her, "they're snow globes. I collect them."

The others stared up at it blankly. "As mementos. I'm on vacation."

"Oh. Well, sorry about the dismemberment." Fred said, cheeks pinking faintly.

"It stings a little," the Ennil Beast conceded, "but the limbs will grow back by morning. You didn't chop off anything permanent."

"Not that it matters, but why did you come here?" Fenster asked, curious.

"Oh, the food! College towns always have the best effluvia!'

Mike found his voice again. "You speak English," he said reverently, switching his recorder back on.

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"So," Spike asked the next day at Fenster's, "how did things go after Fred and I left?"

"Not bad. I got plenty of data for my files, and Mike got the interview of his career. The Ennil Beast even posed for pictures. Apparently a worker Beast's life is very dull -- all tending the Queen and/or her thousands of eggs 24/7 with only one week off a year. It really loved the attention. Oh, and its tentacles did grow back by morning. Fascinating stuff."

"Yeah, well, I need to push off. Got people waitin' on me further South. There goin' to be a problem with the payment?"

"No, I talked it over with the president and he eventually agreed to pay in full even though there turned out to be no real danger," Fenster said. "You did come here and fight the Beast after all."

"Uh huh, don't suppose Polaroids and veiled threats regarding our sewer friend were of any help there?"

"The man had a right to know what he was paying for," Fenster replied stoutly.

"Of course." Spike said, wondering if it was possible to pass on demonic traits to descendents even if the line started _before_ one became a demon.

_**TBC**_

_(credit where it is due: real life Fenster has actually written something about gay Amish ghosts. Sort of.)_


	8. At Long Last Love

**Episode 8.8 At Long Last Love**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Again, many thanks to Jen for editing help, comments and review.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS - basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 8 features Jen, who is paired with Giles. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

Middle of Nowhere, Kansas. A tired Giles turned off the road and into a deserted rest stop. Night had fallen, and they were in an isolated place, but neither he nor Dawn could drive anymore. The endless flatness of Middle America had reduced them both to exhausted, snapping nervousness, and Buffy needed to hunt though it was unlikely she'd find anything in the empty-looking Flint Hills.

Giles let the luxurious driver's seat fully back and gave himself up to a nap while Dawn danced over to the women's toilets and Buffy started out on a hopeful patrol. Five minutes later, Dawn, wandering cautiously in the brightly moonlit woods, found trouble.

A coterie of five vampires surrounded her, growling menace. Dawn sighed; at least this was something for Buffy.

"BUFFY!" she shrieked in a piercing tone, then turned to the evident leader and said conversationally, "Now you're gonna get it."

He sneered impressively. "Cry out for help all you want, little girl. Your oddly named friend will never be able to help you. Indeed, her own life is imperiled. Lucien here has a significant appetite." The leader nodded to a giant minion, who began fingering Dawn's shiny hair while the other demons laughed spectrally. Their silver, inhuman laughs were still tinkling in the air when Lucien vanished in a cloud of dust.

Dawn made a moue of distaste and began shaking vamp dust out of her silky brown hair while Buffy gave a cowboy yell and charged the remaining undead.

Three more piles of dust later, Buffy tossed her stake to Dawn, cracked her knuckles and asked the still standing leader vamp, "That's _it_? That's what passes for minions in this place?"

"I work with what I have," he said defensively, "and . . . hey! I don't have to explain myself to you! My people are . . . were . . . mighty forces of darkness. My lieutenant Lucian . . . "

"Was a cheese doodle. A. Cheese. Doodle." Buffy repeated over the vampire's sputtering. "Look, I'm not telling you your vampiric business, I'm just saying with a little more discrimination you could have had better minions, and I could have had a better meal. I was snacking off the hors d'oeuvre tray here."

The vampire stared at her, baffled. "Who, what, are you?"

"I'm Buffy, the Slayer," she told him. He shrugged blankly.

"Born with a destiny to kill demons? One girl in all the world; well, used to be? Any of this sounding familiar to you?"

"Unless you're a member of a thrash band, no. And your ability to destroy my minions doesn't impress me - that much. You were right, they were weak. But I am strong. Stronger than some jumped up, tiny hu . . ."

Having heard this speech before, Buffy didn't bother letting him finish before slamming her fist into his chest and tearing his heart out.

As Buffy brushed dust from her hands onto the new pile in front of her, she groused to Dawn.

"That's a fine thing, I spend 8 years killing demons left and right and do I get any respect for it? I'm still meeting vampires who don't even know what a Slayer is, much less who I am! It's the height thing, that's what it is."

"C'mon Buffy, you get plenty of respect from demons who know you, and besides, Spike's nearly as short as you are and he inspires terror everywhere he goes," Dawn argued.

"He's had 125 years to work at it, and he leaves gruesome remains behind, not dust." Buffy said, refusing to be consoled. "How many demons outside the big cities know about Slayers? Practically zip."

"Well," Dawn joked lightly, "you can always leave a few alive to carry your fame far and wide."

"No, I'm the Slayer, they're the pre-Slain; I'm doomed to obscurity. By the way, what were you doing wandering in the woods alone? I thought you outgrew that."

"I was looking for a decent place to pee." Dawn admitted. "And don't bring up that rest stop, because the operative word is 'decent'."

A few refreshing minutes later, Buffy and Dawn got back into the SUV, now loaded down with food from the single working vending machine. Giles stirred briefly and cracked open one eye.

"You girls shouldn't eat so much junk food, it isn't properly filling," he murmured before falling back asleep.

"Tell me about it," Buffy grumbled.

-

Driving down I-70 on the way to Fayetteville, Arkansas, Giles passed Bentonville early enough in the morning to see the unholy, demonic glow outlining the Wal-Mart corporate headquarters before the sunlight obscured it. He shuddered, hoping the day's adventures didn't bring them back to that particular Hellmouth.

Dawn, asleep in the passenger seat, started awake suddenly and asked "are we there yet?" before blushing over the cliché.

"Not quite yet," Giles answered. "Take another look at that map; I'm not sure I took the right turn off from the highway."

"This looks like the right road." Dawn said, comparing the map with the computer print out of directions. "We should be at Tara's place in 20 minutes. Do you think she'll have pancakes?"

"Who has pancakes?" Buffy asked groggily from the back. "Do they have bacon, too?"

Twenty minutes later to the second, Giles pulled into Tara's driveway to find the blonde witch waiting for them in the front yard, all smiles. She rushed them and embraced each in turn in a shower of welcoming words. Tara looked good; it was evident her break from Scooby-dom had done wonders for her.

"I hope you haven't eaten yet, breakfast is almost ready and we cooked up nearly everything in the kitchen!"

"Pancakes?" Dawn asked, brightly hopeful.

"In all sorts of funny shapes," Tara confirmed. "Aunt Jen's really good at pancake animals; she even does them on purpose."

"Yeah, Spike mentioned your aunt the Slayer. That was a real kick in the pants," Buffy commented.

Tara chuckled. "I nearly fell over when she told me. I mean, holy coincidence, Batman."

"Is that her?" Dawn asked, nodding to a tall, slender woman who'd come to stand in the doorway.

"Yes," Tara and Buffy said in unison.

"Sorry," Buffy grinned, "sister Slayer sense kicking in. Well, let's go meet her, Giles. Giles?"

The three women looked over to the silent Giles, who was staring towards the doorway as if at a vision.

"Aunt Jen often has that affect on men," Tara whispered, amused. "I've never been sure if it's the long legs, the long ash-blonde hair, the big green eyes or the big boobs that make them look that pole-axed. There's usually a lot more drooling involved, though; Mr. Giles is really keeping it together."

"Giles," Buffy said, raising her voice a little to break into his trance, "we're going to go meet the Slayer aunt now."

Without replying, Giles walked to the woman in the doorway and held out his hand.

"Rupert Giles, yours. Ah, at your service."

Jen gave him a wicked smile, looking him over appreciatively. "Delighted," she drawled silkily, taking his hand. "Tara's spoken of you so often; I've longed to meet you." She turned to smile at the others. "Come on in and have some breakfast."

Buffy wondered when Giles and Slayer Jen were going to stop holding hands.

-

The breakfast table looked ready to collapse under it's heavy load of food. Dawn stuffed herself with homemade pancakes dripping with real maple syrup, and Buffy feasted on ham, bacon, grits, hash browns and fried eggs, accompanied by a small mountain of biscuits and gravy. Giles, suddenly concerned with his waistline, ate the mixed fruit (I never serve the heart attack special without at least one healthy alternative, Jen had said) and quietly discussed their situation with Tara and Jen.

"I expect Dawn's already filled you in on the basics. After the final battle Willow took off on, well, I imagine it's some kind of spiritual quest."

"She said she wanted to 'find herself', didn't she?" Tara asked.

"Yes, she did. Sent a note to that effect actually."

"Willow always did have a flirtation with the New Age," Tara said ruefully. "Still, this was long overdue."

"Perhaps, but we need to track her down now. She's our best hope of getting Xander back, and possibly back as one person."

"This Xander," Jen asked, "half of him is now a vampire when he isn't a disaster prone slack jaw. Are you sure you need that half back?"

"Need, probably not; but it seems only right. Besides, Punter Xander is the one who's afraid of Clair Wilkins. The last thing we need is Lofty Xander rendezvousing with his beloved," Giles said dryly, then noticed both women smiling at him. "Something?" he asked, perplexed.

"I just love 'English' English," Tara said to her aunt.

"Likewise," Jen answered, her eyes still on Giles.

Giles ducked his head slightly, feeling simultaneously awkward and pleased.

"At any rate," he went on quickly, "we want one whole Xander back, and we need your help, Tara, to locate Willow. The strength of your, er, friendship with her . . . "

"Relax, Mr. Giles. Aunt Jen's the one person in my family I _can_ speak freely to. She knows Willow and I were lovers."

"Ah, excellent, that does make things so much easier. We'll give you any assistance you need, of course. Dawn has tremendous raw talent and is eager to help."

"I may need both of you if someone of Willow's power is so determined to remain hidden." Tara said, troubled. "I just wish I knew her as well as I used to think I did. I can't imagine why she'd want, or need, to conceal herself from her friends."

"You've considered she might be dead, or bring you worse trouble than you have now?" Jen asked.

"I'm certain she's not dead - there's an energy, a _thereness_, from the spells Dawn and I have done that suggest she's still part of the living world. As for the other . . ."

Giles looked away while the witch and Slayer waited.

"I know there is that possibility, but I have to trust Willow, trust her essential decency and intelligence. Trust that she's the woman I hoped the girl would become. I need to have that faith."

Tara reached over and took Giles' hand without speaking.

"OK, we'll go with that assumption then," Jen said decisively, with a quick glance from Giles to Tara.

-

After breakfast, the weary Giles was shown to a guest room for a few hours of decent sleep. Dawn and Tara took off on a sight-seeing excuse for a long, private visit while Jen washed up, brushing off Buffy's offer of help.

Buffy was leaning back in her chair at the breakfast table, contentedly patting her annoyingly flat stomach. "That was good."

"As good as a 300 year old kill?" Jen asked slyly.

"Oh, good as a 350 year old at least!" Buffy replied, then stared at Jen.

"That's right, I know all about it," the other woman said with a grin. "It's part of the coming back when you're supposed to be permanently gone. I don't know exactly what happens, but we come back more in touch with our inner Primitive. You've been brought back twice - once resuscitated naturally, once resurrected by magic. Even though you were only gone a minute or so the first time, you must have noticed it right away after you came back - a clearer, more visceral Slayerness?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered, "and it bothered me, it didn't seem, you know, normal. And the way I felt as the Master died, all lit up inside, like I'd had something that could keep me running for days. That seemed even less normal. It really scared me back then, how much I kept on wanting that as if it were food. Funny, it doesn't bother me at all now, doesn't seem any more or less normal than a fox wanting a rabbit."

"You were gone awfully long, that second time," Jen said. "I've noticed there's a correlation between how long Slayers are gone and how Primitive we come back. It's something to do with the way the First Slayer was made if some mouthy vampires I've met are to be believed."

Jen shrugged. "I've never really cared enough to quiz them about it. You know how vamps are - yakkety yak yak yak and who knows if it's worth anything and in the meantime I'm hungry!"

Jen and Buffy shared a Slayerly laugh. "I've always believed expedience is a virtue," Jen admitted.

-

Later that evening, as Tara and Jen prepared dinner for their guests, Giles, Dawn and Buffy held council in his guest room.

"Look at all these souvenirs I got, aren't they the cutest things?" Dawn asked, exhibiting a collection of walnut people with googly eyes. "This one's a librarian!" she exclaimed, handing Giles his gift.

"Thank you. That's . . ." Words failed Giles as he stared at the bespeckled nut. "We'll start tomorrow on the locator spell," he hurried on, "Tara's going to do some research and call a few relatives tonight, while we rest up. Jen has offered to join the search for Willow afterwards, whether the spell works or not."

Buffy and Dawn exchanged a look. "Giles, you realize your face started glowing when you said Jen's name?" Buffy asked.

"She's The One, Buffy." Giles said simply.

"Oh, you're not serious? This fast? You took 6 months picking out a long distance carrier!"

"This is different. Obviously. I can't explain it. I've been in love before, but never like this. I've never just _known_ before. It's quite extraordinary. I expect you felt this way about Angel."

"Yeah. I was wrong though," Buffy reminded him.

"Bad example," Giles admitted.

"Did you see her turning into Venus on the half shell?" Dawn asked excitedly, "Because it would be so cool if that stuff really happened!"

"No, of course not," Giles said, amused. After thinking about it a bit, his face took on a regretful expression. "No, I didn't."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh brother, welcome to interesting times!"

TBC


	9. Break on Through part 1

**Episode 8.9 Break on Through, part 1**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Many thanks to Merrin for editing help, comments and review.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 9 features Rebecca, who is paired with Wesley. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

"I've got mail!" Dawn said happily.

After dinner, Tara had retired to her room to continue her research, leaving Giles, Buffy and Jen shop-talking weapons, and Dawn at her laptop.

"Spike says he's finished with Fenster's boogey and will meet up with us in a few days. Oh, and Fenster and Fred are an item."

"Who are . . ." Buffy started, then waved off the answer. "Never mind, I'll play catch up later."

"Oooohhhh, Myrl sent a picture of her Watcher!" Dawn squealed. She turned the laptop toward her audience; it showed a smiling Myrl standing beside a frazzled looking young man.

"He'd be cute if he didn't have those dark circles under his eyes," Dawn mused, squinting at the picture thoughtfully.

"Giles, am I crazy or does Myrl look younger?" Buffy asked slowly.

Giles turned to Jen, an eyebrow raised.

"Being a Slayer does slow down the aging process," Jen told him. "The Gambian Slayer's well into her 70's and barely looks 40. I don't know if it can actually reverse aging though."

"This apparent rejuvenation is probably a side effect of gaining a Slayer's resilience and healing capacity," Giles said. "Dawn, save Myrl's email for me; I need to discuss this with her in detail."

Dawn nodded, clicked a few times, then squealed loudly enough to make the others jump and bring Tara running.

"Dear Lord!" Giles began.

"Faith and Robin got married!" Dawn told them with a huge grin.

"Oh. Jolly good. I'll order them some champagne flutes."

"_Faith_ got married? _Faith_, Faith?" Buffy asked, as if another Faith might be emailing Dawn about her marriage to Robin. "The _world_ has gone crazy."

"Buck up, big sister," Dawn consoled, "your prince will come."

With a snort, Buffy left for her night's Slaying; a few dead fiends would pick up her spirits.

"Well," Tara said as the door banged shut behind Buffy, "I have some interesting news too. Cousin Tyrone had something that he thinks will be a work-around for a cloaking spell. It uses a TV to get a visual of the general area, rather than pin-pointing a specific person. At least it'll narrow down the search."

"We'll start fresh in the morning," Giles said. "I assume this spell will need all three of us?"

Tara nodded. "Tyrone said it'd take all the oomph we could muster to work the spell without someone like Willow catching on. I know I need a good night's sleep before we start."

"I've made up the daybed in my office for Dawn," Jen said, "and Buffy can crash here on the couch when she gets back. I'll put a pillow and some blankets out for her."

She glanced over to Giles. "If you're going to wait up for Buffy, would you mind some company?"

Giles swallowed quickly and tried to look innocent. "It would be most welcome. I noticed a swing out on the porch . . ."

With a smile, Jen led Giles out to the porch. Tara and Dawn smothered giggles.

Buffy kicked a pebble down the sidewalk, following it to administer further kicks. Her night had been very disappointing. She'd found a gathering of juicily aged vampires downtown; unfortunately, she'd barely begun stalking them when a panhandler had waylaid her, asking for spare change.

Her efforts to shush and run off the noisy young man had only attracted the vampires' attention and their master, a woman who knew a Slayer when she saw one, had sent her people scattering to the four winds.

Buffy followed the abused pebble all the way back to Jen and Tara's home, not particularly surprised to see Giles and Jen sitting out on the porch, their heads close together. Buffy wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Giles' sudden experience of True Love -- on one hand it was kind of cute, on the other hand she sensed a serious subdividing of Giles' attention on the way and on yet another hand, well, it was just kind of cute.

"Hi, Giles. Hi, Jen," She called out loudly to the disheveled pair. "Do I have a bed?"

"Just inside on the couch, Buffy," Jen replied smoothly as Giles made "er, um" noises.

"Cool," the younger Slayer said. "Don't stay up too late, Giles." Buffy walked nonchalantly into the house.

"That girl can be so . . . " Giles began before Jen laughed his irritation away and pulled him back into the depths of the porch swing.

The next morning found the witch and Watchers sitting cross-legged on the living room rug with an elderly, boxy TV making a fourth to the magic circle. This had caused some cultural commentary from Giles as he folded himself into position, until reassured by Tara that he would not have to "hold hands" with the appliance.

Tara began chanting a complicated call and response spell, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Buffy, watching from the perimeter of the room with Jen, marveled at how Giles and Dawn knew exactly how to respond and felt a new appreciation for the non-ouchy arts.

Buffy was so transfixed by the eerie rhythm of the spell that Jen had to elbow her slightly in the ribs to draw Buffy's attention to the TV. Patterns of glowing green light were undulating across the 13" screen and as the Slayers watched, the random patterns gradually turned into the shifting greens of a deep, bosky forest.

_Wow, Buffy mouthed silently to Jen, wary of making any noise that might break the spell. And how, Jen mouthed back as the scene panned slowly to reveal a narrow river and a rock outcropping nearby. Buffy wondered at the look of increasing astonishment on the older Slayer's face, curious as to what had disturbed Jen's customary sangfroid._

Tara gave a sudden high cry and fell back, her face pale from effort. Giles and Dawn looked in need of rest as well, but not enough to keep them from scrutinizing the TV screen as the image faded away.

"Well," Dawn said, trying to remain upbeat, "that narrowed it down some."

"To any one of the Earth's thousands of forests," Giles sighed. "I suppose Willow finding herself in the middle of a large city with easily identifiable street signs was out of the question."

"I'm sorry, guys," Tara mumbled wearily as Jen helped her exhausted niece to the couch. "That wasn't very . . ."

"I know where that forest is," Jen said.

"Oh, um, how?" Buffy asked when it became clear the others were too surprised to speak.

"I go hiking there, have ever since I became a Slayer," Jen explained. "There was something about the place that drew me, when I was tired or feeling confused.

"Please tell me it's in the States," Giles begged.

"Its right next door, the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee."

Rebecca whistled cheerfully as she plucked a handful of herbs from her garden, adding them to the basket already full of vegetables and flowers. They'd have a fine soup for dinner tonight and, if her nose was not deceived, fresh bread as well. Her protégé must have decided that baking would make a refreshing break from combat training.

She smiled as she made a mental note to tell her husband to ease up a bit. As clear as it was that their order needed to take a more active, indeed aggressive, role in the world, women with the qualities to join them were too few to risk running any into the ground.

Rebecca went into the cottage, washed the herbs and vegetables, arranged the flowers neatly in blue jars and then went upstairs to freshen up. It would never do to meet their guests in dirty overalls, with twigs and such caught in her long braid.

Giles relaxed in the passenger seat of Jen's glossy black Aston Martin, the top down and the air riffling his hair and making her silky locks stream out from beneath her scarf. For a few hours he could imagine himself and his love in a classic, carefree 50s movie, perhaps something with Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman.

"What do you thing Giles and Jen are talking about?" Dawn asked eagerly, straining over the steering wheel to catch a glimpse of them in the car ahead.

"Probably not talking at all," Buffy muttered, "Two people in love and in a classic car. They're probably soaking in the ambience."

"You're in a mood," Dawn observed, crinkling her nose.

Buffy sighed. "It's nothing, really. I'm just all antsy with the Willow thing, the whole climaxy-ness of it. And I don't believe I just said that."

"Hey, maybe the 'ants' are in your brain, clogging up the gears," Dawn grinned.

Buffy looked around for something to crumple up and throw at her sister while Dawn went back to speculating about their elders.

Jen pulled to a stop some distance from a large, very old cottage and waited for the SUV to catch up.

Buffy, her passenger since Giles had taken over the SUV from Dawn at the state line, eyed the cottage suspiciously. "I didn't know National Parks allowed private homes built on their land," she said.

"To the best of my knowledge, they don't," Jen replied. "I've hiked every inch of this area for decades; I have never seen this house before.'

"The lady of the house likes her privacy," commented a tall, dark, handsome man emerging from the woods. "It's good to see you again, Buffy. And you must be Miss Jen Maclay, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Wesley?" Buffy gasped, after picking her jaw up off the floorboards. "That's Wesley," she said, turning a surprised face to Jen.

"So I gather," Jen told her, then held her hand out to Wesley. "The pleasure is mine. How do you know my friend?"

"I was her Watcher once, for a brief and very inept time," he chuckled. "It's an amusing story, and one I'm sure Mr. Giles tells much better than I."

As Wesley opened and held Jen's door, the SUV pulled up. "Hey, Wesley!" Dawn yelled, hanging out of the SUV's window. "Pryce," Giles greeted Wesley dryly after parking and exiting the vehicle, "What an interesting turn of events. What brought you here?"

"That's a long story. Well, longish. Come on inside, last time I checked dinner was almost ready."

As the group followed Wes into the cottage, Buffy whispered to Giles, "Does Wesley seem changed to you? He seems changed to me. Do you think he died too?"

"Time will change people Buffy, even without the catalyst of death. But I'll grant his persona seems radically altered," Giles whispered back. "It does make me curious as to what's happened in LA over the last few years."

Giles fell silent as they entered the large, comfortable room. A dinner table was set with 7 places, which made Giles a bit nervous but before Buffy could make the inevitable remark about dwarves, a slender woman dressed in flowing white robes glided into the room.

Although her thick, wavy, ankle-length hair was white as bone, her face was unlined, her large grey-blue eyes were clear and her body looked supple and youthful.

"This is Rebecca," Wes said, gazing at the woman adoringly.

"A Guardian," Buffy added.

"But, but," Dawn sputtered, confused, "I thought Preacher Apocalypse-Loving-Lunatic killed the last Guardian."

"He killed the last of the _original_ Guardians," Rebecca answered in a faint, lilting accent, "there are others of us, brought into the order at later dates. I, myself, have only been a Guardian for 3,547 years."

As they digested this information, the seventh member of the dinner party entered with a basket of fresh-baked bread. "Do you want the soup in a tureen, Rebecca, or shall I serve it in individual bowls?" Willow asked.

Rebecca refrained from answering until the pandemonium created by the stampede to embrace Willow ended. The red-headed witch was squashed in the middle of a group hug, Giles nearly managing to encircle all three girls in his arms.

TBC


	10. Break on Through part 2

1**Episode 8.9 Break on Through, part 2**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Many thanks to Merrin for editing help, comments and review.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 9 features Rebecca, who is paired with Wesley. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

At Rebecca's request, Willow served the soup in individual bowls while Wesley sliced the squashed bread.

"So," Dawn asked, "what's the deal here?"

"Rebecca's training me to become a Guardian!" Willow bubbled. "That is, as soon as I get the discipline thing down."

"I'm inflicting a bit of boot camp on her by way of teaching self-control. Early hours, KP, combat training and re-emphasis of mystical ethics as opposed to whipping out creative little magical short-cuts."

"Er, combat training?" Giles asked.

Rebecca nodded. "The First Evil's antics convinced me of the need for our Order to be more involved in the world. That means being able to protect ourselves and others, if need be. And that, of course, is when Wesley walked into my life."

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." Wesley quoted as he passed the sliced bread around. "I was wandering the country, looking for someone powerful to help me with Angel, and found myself here. Rebecca convinced me that the Angel situation would be sorted out by others, and that I was needed for other things. An offer of marriage sealed the deal. I've become the Guardians' combat instructor, though my only students so far are Rebecca and Willow."

"We're Wesley's test cases. As soon as the training kinks are worked out, we'll have a regular, if very small, training camp here." Rebecca said.

"Whoa, back up the exposition truck a few feet," Buffy said. "You two got married? Just like that?"

Wesley smiled at Rebecca and took her hand. "When it's true love, you don't need to wait. But of course you know that better than anyone Buffy!"

As Giles and Jen turned to smile at each other as well, Buffy muttered something incomprehensible and shoved a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

"So, combat training, huh?" Dawn said brightly to Willow, as Willow simultaneously asked, "So, how's Tara doing?" After a brief "you first" pantomime, Dawn answered Willow's question.

"She's OK," Dawn told her, "Living with her aunt and doing the witchy thing. Oh, Jen here is Tara's aunt and she's a Slayer."

"Yeah, Rebecca told me all about it." Willow turned to Jen. "Um, I'm not as bad as I used to be, not that I'm saying Tara would have exaggerated anything, but I didn't really leave a good last impression with her and I don't know how good a first impression I'm making here and I, uh . . ."

Jen smiled at Willow's nervous rambling. "Relax, Tara speaks very well of you."

"Well, good," Willow said, surprised, "That's, you know, real good. Um, by the way, not that I'm not glad to see you guys and don't take this wrong but how did you find me? This place is cloaked in, like, three or four different ways."

"I lifted the cloaks I had on this cottage, myself and Wesley, as far as our guests' sight was concerned. I thought it was high time you had a visit from some friends, training or no training," Rebecca told her.

"I guess then Tara broke though my cloak, didn't she? I always told her she was a lot stronger than she believed." Willow mused.

The conversation trailed off as everyone finished their meal. After Willow cleared away the table she rejoined the group chatting amiably beside the fireplace, bringing along an aged wine and dessert of cheese and fruit. When Willow was settled in, Giles explained their mission.

"One of our number, Xander, an odd but eventually appealing young man, has fallen into great difficulty. He was split into, well, ept and inept halves by one Clair Wilkins. She's rather hard to explain . . ."

"No need," Rebecca told him, "I've been keeping an uneasy eye on the Wilkins clan for several centuries. Their spiritual leader is an old nemesis of mine."

"Ah, good." Giles said, relieved to have a short cut to his story. "At any rate, she left us with the inept Xander, who was subsequently transformed into a vampire by a student sorceress who calls herself Benni -- a young woman of unfortunately considerable and ingenious talent. Both Xanders and their owners have since vanished from this plane of existence. We want to get Xander back, in his original, singular, form. Can you help us?" Giles asked Rebecca.

"Yes!" Willow burst out immediately, then turned a flushed face to Rebecca. "I mean, I know you won't object even though my training hasn't reached mystical Guardian stuff yet but he's my oldest friend and I know I can do _something_ even if I don't know what yet and you couldn't possibly say no because I really, really have to do this and . . ."

"Willow, breathe," Rebecca urged her protégée. "Yes, we can help you," she told Giles, "But not directly. Reversing the spell of another magick-worker, even a weak one, is not easy and the women you've described are far from weak. Neither I nor Willow has enough power to do what you need, but we can find out who does have that much power. The spell will be a perfect test of Willow's discipline."

Willow squeaked happily and threw her arms around Rebecca's neck. Before the younger woman could start babbling again, Rebecca sent her off. "The spell you need is Arual's Winnowing, in volume 6 of the purple spell books. The cavern should be the proper setting, this time of day."

As Willow scampered off, Dawn wondered if she would need help. "Probably," Rebecca told her, "But a Guardian must learn to work alone, without sharing the energy of others."

Wesley refilled everyone's wine glass, mentioning that the wine was a gift from Cordelia.

"You know where Cordy is?" Buffy perked up.

"In France, where she's having quite a success in the fashion world. Started as a model and now has her own clothing line. She's quite possibly the only American the French can tolerate; at least until you people get a new Administration." Wesley said.

"She must fit right in," Buffy mused, reflecting on some of Cordelia's more acidic assessments of the Slayer's fashion sense. "Did you use your detective contacts to find her?"

"Actually, Rebecca found her."

"Spells? Enchantments? Throwing bones?" Buffy asked the Guardian.

"W magazine," Rebecca told her. "There was an article on Cordelia in the Spring issue."

"Buffy's right, Cordelia is assuredly in her element," Giles said. "What I'm interested in is how on Earth you came to be here, Rebecca. You're obviously quite settled in, and for some time." Giles looked around at the ancient, well-kept cottage.

"Um, before anyone gets started on histories, do you mind if I check my emails? I'm on a strict "keep in touch" schedule," Dawn said.

"Go right ahead," Rebecca told her. "I came to this country with the Vikings," she continued, "a rough group, but they were very respectful of mystics; well, of those who could calm storms. When they departed, I decided to stay and explore. Most of the natives where hospitable and I've made some excellent friends of various shamans over the years, and found and guided a few native Slayers. When I decided to settle down and conceal myself (the less hospitable European settlers were starting to make inroads then) I chose the Great Smoky Mountains, a place unrivaled for beauty, in my opinion."

"But, well, what about the tourists coming around now?" Buffy asked, "Jen couldn't be the only one to hike here. Didn't you ever want to move to a more secluded place, like Alaska, or at least a more remote spot in Tennessee?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I see no reason to move; after all, I was the first white-eyes here and as far as I'm concerned this is my little corner of the world. Besides, all life is a series of adjustments, and if I'd kept going further into seclusion it would have taken longer for Wes and Willow to find me. And I'm very much enjoying my sudden little family."

Rebecca reached out to caress the side of Wes' scruffy face. "You know, I gave up dating over a thousand years ago, it just didn't seem compatible with Guardianship. But when the time is right, all things come to pass. Thankfully, my life was long enough for this to come to me!"

As the rest of the group murmured appreciatively, Dawn gave a little gasp. "Giles, you need to read this _now_," she said, passing the laptop to him.

"What appalling timing," Giles whispered after reading the message. "We've just had news from our friends Merrin and Gunn," he told the rest. "They've located Angelus. He's been in Chicago for some months and raising an increasing level of Hell there."

"Chicago just noticed this?" Buffy asked, surprised.

"Well, it was hard to distinguish at first from the usual level of Hell in Chicago. However, now that Angelus is in full rampage we can't lose any time putting a stop to him. And we can't afford to hit him with anything less than full force."

"Giles, we're so close to rescuing Xander, we can't abandon him now! Who knows what's happened to him with those two she-devils, or what may happen to him the longer both of him are stuck with them in some Crazyworld?" Buffy argued.

"Hence my reference to the appalling timing," Giles remarked. "We have a conflicting duty to our friend and to our calling and can abandon neither."

"If I may point out," Rebecca said, "You have two Slayers and while it would be best to have both at your side when facing down the likes of Angelus, either is entirely capable of taking him on alone."

"Rebecca's right, Giles," Buffy told him. "You know I'd be at your side if it were anyone but Xander . . ." Dawn cleared her throat loudly. ". . . almost anyone but Xander; but I have to help him now that we're so close. I'll join you again as soon as I can!"

"And kicking some Angelus butt is a dream come true for me, love." Jen told Giles. "Since he's been ensouled most of my Slayerhood, I thought I'd never have that pleasure!"

Giles sighed. "Agreed, with great reluctance. Dawn, I don't suppose I have to urge to you stay with Buffy. At least we'll have a Slayer and Watcher working on either problem."

"And Buffy needs a driver or she isn't going anywhere," Dawn grinned. "Don't worry, Giles; it'll all work out. Our adventures always do!"

A pale, sweaty Willow re-entered the cottage many hours later. "That was a lot harder than I thought it would be," she admitted. "But I know who the big muscle is for the job and . . . hey, where's Giles?"

"Speeding to Chicago, along with Jen. C'mon Will, spill; where do we go next!" Buffy urged.

"OhhhKay. It's some guy named Phillipis and I think he's real close but I haven't pinpointed that yet. I'll start again tomorrow when I've got my strength back."

Rebecca smiled at the Guardian trainee. "It's remarkable you've gotten so much this quickly, Willow; Phil isn't easily tracked by anyone. I'm very pleased with your progress."

Willow stared at Rebecca. "You already knew?"

"Of course, Phil's an old friend and I'm well aware of his abilities. I needed to test yours and you've done splendidly. I know exactly where to send your friends to get help for this Xander. That is, if Phil agrees to help. Mages are notoriously difficult," Rebecca told Buffy.

"We'll persuade him. I'll do _anything_," Buffy said stoutly. "Where do we find Magic Man?"

"North Carolina. He used to be an adjutant professor of economics at NCU until he got tired of students whose high school educations barely exceeded kindergarten and decided to spend a few years relaxing as a hermit in the woods. Stay the night here and we'll set you up for the journey tomorrow morning."

Rebecca turned again to Willow. "And you, my dear, have a holiday coming. Take the Range Rover and go see your friend Tara. I'm sure you two have much catching up to do and, if she wishes, feel free to bring her back here for a visit."

"I don't know if she wants to see me again . . .," Willow began nervously.

"She does," Rebecca assured her, "Just don't be pushy. And check in with the garage on your way out of town, they're taking way too long fixing my Saab."

TBC


	11. Rolling Stones

**Episode 8.10 Rolling Stones**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 10 features Claire, who is paired with Knox. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

_**Many thanks to Merrin for editing help, comments and review.**_

Spike sped along Interstate 75, his mint condition Firebrand DeSoto running like a big, hungry cat. Karen had found the car for him and he'd wired his girl the money to make the purchase. They'd had a lovely time a few days ago, on the outskirts of Texas, exchanging the Jaguar she'd loaned him back in California for the DeSoto. His skin still tingled at the memory.

His trip across the South had continued pleasant with a stop in Arkansas to visit Tara (the only Scooby for whom he felt unconflicted fondness) and catch up on lost time. He'd also had a good night's hunting there, making an excellent meal of a meeting of Klansmen.

It was a satisfied Spike who began the long drive from Arkansas to the Great Smoky Mountains. He'd been turned around at the foothills by an urgent call from Dawn, letting him know Angelus had been discovered in Chicago. Spike immediately decided to join Giles and Jen, reasoning that Buffy and Dawn needed less help than those confronting the old Ponce.

He regretted not getting to meet this Rebecca Dawn also told him about, but it could wait. From what little he knew of Guardians, those birds were good at waiting.

Spike hoped to catch up with Giles and Jen before they reached Chicago so they could have a planning session before putting the smackdown on Angelus. He smiled thinly, luxuriating in all the ways he could inflict gratuitous pain on his arse-hole of a grandsire before the forces of good meted out mere justice. Spike was a revenge man himself.

As Spike crossed the Ohio state line, his stomach growled angrily. He snorted in exasperation; that was one of the things that hadn't changed from living to undead: the more you ate, the more you wanted to eat. At least night was falling, and he was near Cincinnati. He could stop off there for a quick bite.

Spike followed his nose to an alley -- he wasn't sure if he'd find something edible, but something interesting was definitely happening back there and he wanted a look.

A huge, leathery thing was fighting with a girl who looked easily 12 years old while a young man shifted around nervously in the background, holding what appeared to be a super-soaker. Well, if he couldn't have some food, at least he could have some fun. With a predatory snarl, he vamped out and joined the fight.

The girl barely glanced at him before yelling, "Knox! Vampire!" and kicking him towards the young man. Something told Spike the super-soaker was filled with holy water (where did humans kept getting the stuff so easily -- in his day, the laity would have had to pry it out of a priest's cold dead hands) and he added an extra rush of speed to the impetus of the girl's kick to reach the man before he could aim and slugged him on the jaw. The young man dropped and Spike rejoined the fight.

The girl was spinning six feet in the air and landed a kick to the thing's face that gouged one of its eyes out. It screamed in rage and lashed out a massive, taloned hand at her. Spike caught the wrist and twisted till it snapped. He shoved the demon into the wall across the alleyway before turning to the girl and yelling, "I'm on _your _side, bint!"

She promptly belted him in the nose. While stars danced in front of his eyes, she said "That was for calling me a bint. I may do it again when I find out what that means." She rushed back to the thing, too busy to bother staking him. Definitely a Slayer though, Spike thought. Any number of human females could fight well but only Slayers could lay on hurt like that.

She was systematically breaking the thing's bones between twisting and leaping out of the way of its savage lashing out. A sudden kick took her by surprise and sent her tumbling across the gravel towards her friend, who was just now getting shakily to his feet. Spike took over for her, inflicting a battering series of jackhammer blows on the thing's midsection before it managed to smack him aside.

The thing no longer seemed interested in fighting and was dragging its injured body towards the mouth of the alley. The little Slayer passed Spike in a blur, somersaulted and landed on the shambling creature's shoulders. She grabbed its head and jerked till the neck made a loud crack and developed a sickening angle. The thing began sinking to the ground and the Slayer leaped nimbly off, blocking escape.

The thing's body starting shifting, looking as if it was turning inside out before finally resolving itself into a naked, middle-aged human male. He scrabbled around on the ground, dazed but unhurt. Ignoring him, the Slayer addressed Spike.

"Why did you help me?" she asked. She was still pumped up and ready to fight, her corn-fed, Middle American girl cuteness somehow not contrasting with her ability to vanquish supernatural beings.

"Relax, Thumbellina," he said as he collared the naked, squirming man the thing had turned into. "I know this is all strange to you, changes you've gone through in the past months, your world turned upside down and you not understanding why . . ."

"I'm a Slayer," she said, her eyes narrowing at him dangerously. "You're a vampire. I find it all pretty easy to understand and if you don't stop tap dancing, I'll put the helpfulness down to head games and fulfill a little more of my destiny."

Spike stared at her. "OK, some Watchers have preceded me. But I'm still not your problem."

"You're Spike, aka William the Bloody. One of the most dangerous vampires in recorded history, although you did drop off the evil radar after your chipping. Which you seem to have gotten over," the young man said, rubbing his jaw. "Oh, the Slayer is Claire and I'm Knox. Hi."

"Oh God," the naked man interrupted, "Please help me! That thing took control of me; I had no will of my own! It'll come back for me and I'll never escape!"

"Nice try," Knox said. "We're not kids here, fella. That was a Nerak demon, a transdimensional being who uses _willing_ humans as vessels to gain entry to this world."

The naked man sobbed. "I didn't know it would be like this! I didn't know it was a killer -- it offered me money, help, and I needed it for my family! We were about to lose everything and once I agreed I was trapped! I couldn't stop it . . ."

"Except that the human vessels have to be willing at all times or the Nerak will be thrown back into its own dimension, never able to use that body again. A single flicker of regret, one moment of transient doubt, and you'd have been free forever," Spike told him.

The naked man struggled briefly, then gave up. "C'mon," he wheedled, "It got me all sorts of money, fancy stuff, girls I could keep for days before they were used up! Who's gonna pass on that?"

"Did I mention that I just stopped by to grab some fast food?" Spike asked Claire and Knox.

"Bon appetit," Claire said.

Spike grinned at her from behind his fangs and a minute later the vessel of the Nerak was lying dead at his feet. Knox looked faintly ill. "Wow. I've seen vampires feed before," he said, "but never that fast. That's even more upsetting than watching it done slowly."

"Why waste time?" Spike asked rhetorically.

"Oh yeah, I know all about Slayers and vampires," Knox said. "You can't work for Wolfram & Hart more than a few weeks without finding out who's who in the battle of Good vs. Evil. By the way, the Senior Partners are super p.o.'ed over that trick Buffy Summers pulled with the Potentials. When you see Slayer Numero Uno again, give her a big thumbs up from me."

"And I still want an answer to my question," Claire prodded.

"It's in my own interest; world's more convenient for me with humans running it." Spike told her. "Besides, playing by the good guys rules makes the game harder, more interesting. I do like things interesting."

They were sitting in a 24-hour diner; apparently Claire and Knox celebrated especially rewarding kills with ice cream sundaes. Having spent enough time with them already, Spike figured another hour satisfying his curiosity wasn't going to hurt. Besides, he'd found a Slayer the others had missed.

Spike took a sip of his hot chocolate. "I gather Knox here is the Watcher stand-in. How'd that happen?"

"Being part of Wolfram & Hart was one of those life defining moments for me," Knox told him. "As you can imagine, my moral compass was pretty loose when they hired me. Seeing the things that went on there tightened it up fast, but also put me out of the running for employee of the month. I got as much inside info as I could to protect myself and took off before they fired me, with real fire. I spent months on the run, jumping at every shadow but also not sure if I was important enough to track down. I went through all my money, and by the time I met Claire I was sleeping on steam grates with the rest of the homeless."

"I saved him from a hungry vamp one night, and he told me I was a Slayer. He told me a lot of stuff I had no idea about, and since I didn't want to do everything the hard way I suggested we become partners. I was working in a bakery then, and living out of a back room. My boss knew about vampires and was lenient with my hours but it was still hard to mix working and slaying. As soon as Knox landed a job we got an apartment and he started supporting me so I could concentrate on slaying. Now he has his own business as a freelance contractor and makes his own hours so he can help out with the trickier kills. I've been able to make a lot of improvements by focusing all my energy on slaying."

Spike grinned. "From what I've seen, I'm surprised the demon population of Cincinnati hasn't been decimated."

"I guess I do over-compensate a little," Claire admitted, "After the big stink my family made when I started slaying things. I figured if I was gonna be disowned for what I was, I'd be the best whatever I was that anyone ever saw!"

"Disowned?" Spike asked curiously.

"My folks are the last of the free range hippies," she sighed. "My grandparents all met at Woodstock and my parents run an organic sprout farm. They're vegans and pacifists and just generally anything crunchy granola. Once they got over the fact that monsters apart from the military-industrial complex existed, they rushed to embrace the diversity -- at least from a distance. My mom doesn't understand why I can't just dialog with demons until we reach a space of mutual harmony."

Claire popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth, then continued. "Eventually they voted me out of the family and I ended up in the big city. Best thing all around as it turned out. Demons tend to cluster in urban areas where there's plenty of food, especially among the street people who don't have any shelter. I started slaying the ones who preyed on the most helpless and got food and lodging from the local humans in exchange, before the bakery gig. It's a good life, though I wish I could graduate with my old friends. The GED just isn't the same."

"Out of purely idle curiosity, how old are you?" Spike asked.

"I'm 18. Nearly," Claire said defensively. "I know I look a little bit younger . . ."

"You look 12," Spike told her, examining the lithe gymnast body, big cornflower blue eyes in a round face decorated by a spray of freckles over the nose, and wavy light brown hair pulled into a short ponytail at the back of her head.

Claire looked discouraged. "Hey, c'mon kiddo," Knox told her, "You'll be thankful for those super-young looks when you're older, and in the meantime they help keep the newcomers off balance. _Everybody_ knows a 12-year old isn't old enough to be a Slayer. The expression on some vampires' faces when you stake them is just priceless!"

"Yeah," Claire said, cheering up. "No offense, Spike."

"None taken. Well, I gotta push off. I'm sure Knox has told you all about Angelus." Claire nodded. "He's in Chicago now, up to his old hellraising with somebody named Laura," Spike told them, "and I've got some people to meet up with so we can bring the bastard down."

"Wait a minute, Angelus -- Chicago -- Laura?" Knox looked flabbergasted.

"That's right. You know something?" Spike asked.

"This may all just be a wild co-incidence, but the head of Wolfram & Hart's Chicago office is a vampire named Laura, and she supposedly got a new boy toy as a birthday present from an old friend of hers."

"Balls," Spike said, disgusted. "Bad enough he's palling around with a 500-year old master vampire, but one who's a CEO of Evil, Inc? Sometimes I gotta wonder just how much fun I can stand."

The trio got out of the booth, paid their bill and went out to Claire's baby blue Buick Skylark. "Let me give you a lift back to your car, Spike," she offered. Just then a band of scruffy looking vampires accosted them.

"Out with your friends, eh Slayer?" the tallest one asked. "Couldn't handle us yourself so you recruited the famous turncoat, Spike. Never thought I'd see the day and here I was thinking of leaving town! But if you're running for help, I guess I'll stick around and do some damage."

Claire made a fist at the vampire. "Less talk, punk," she told him before charging into their midst.

"It's just the cutest thing when she balls up her little fists and shakes them!" Knox enthused as he and Spike watched the growing dust storm.

"Those little fists can dent steel, mate," Spike pointed out.

"Oh, I know, I've actually seen Claire do that. But it's still just the cutest thing. When she gets really mad and stamps her little foot even the monsters go _"Awwwww!" _Right before she eviscerates them."

Knox looked at Claire fondly. "She's like the little sister I always wanted my real little sister to be."

TBC


	12. Magic Man

**Episode 8.11 Magic Man**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A.**_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 11 features Phil, who is paired with Buffy. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

_**Many thanks to Merrin and Jen for editing help, comments and review.**_

Buffy fidgeted in the large leather chair as Dawn chatted with Phillipis. The two of them already appeared to be cozy friends, to Buffy's annoyance. Phillipis irritated her, for reasons she couldn't put her finger on; she just felt all edgy around him.

"Buffy," Dawn asked, "Did you know Phil's climbed Everest?"

"I was studying with some monks in the area, ages ago," Phillipis said, "and since it was so close I thought, why not?"

_Phil?_ Buffy thought. _We've been here 15 minutes and already he's Phil? Honestly, Dawn was turning into such a flake about men. Throw some emerald green eyes, thick wavy bronze hair, rich golden tan and lumberjack build her way . . ._

Buffy shook herself out of a developing fantasy. Dawn would just have to get a grip on her hormones. There was more to this Phillipis than met the eye, she was sure of that. Her Slayer sense was tingling all over. If he didn't have Rebecca's endorsement, Buffy would be so out of here, dragging the enchanted Dawn behind her.

As it was she intended to split as soon as she got Xander back, supposing Mr. Magic Man decided to help them at all. High time to bring this meet and greet to the point. Buffy cleared her throat.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phillipis steepled his fingers and stared at Buffy over them after she finished her story. Buffy straightened and met his green gaze steadily.

"I can bring back your friend, and in his original form. The ladies giving you such trouble do not concern me; however, there is a high price for gifts such as mine," he said.

"I have plenty of money . . ." Buffy began, reaching for her credit card.

Phillipis waved this off. "So do I. No, there is a different price to be paid. If I am to use my powers for your benefit, you must prove yourself worthy of it. Simply being the Slayer is not sufficient for my efforts," he pointed out.

Buffy fumed silently, then spoke. "Xander is worth any dog and pony show I have to put on for your amusement. Tell me what you want done, and I'll do it; just hop to it, OK? I'm not on vacation here."

Phillipis nodded. "You must complete three tasks for me."

"_Three?_" Buffy was appalled. They'd wasted so much time already since Xander had been snatched.

"Three is the traditional number, and I am a traditional man," Phillipis confirmed. "The first task is to dispose of the dread Nahgem Beast. It lives in a nearby lake but comes out at night to hunt. Bring me the Beast's head for your first task. In the meantime, I will keep your delightful sister entertained helping me translate some ancient scrolls I've acquired."

Dawn squealed in anticipation, and Buffy took herself off, cursing all handsome mages everywhere.

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Buffy, soaked and exhausted, trudged wearily up the road to Phillipis' lodge high in the Blue Ridge Mountains, severed Beast head tucked under her arm. Just as she reached the front door, a horn honked cheerily behind her.

Phillipis and Dawn were tooling up in a vintage Nash Rambler. _Of course_, the dripping Buffy thought, _just in time not to give me a lift._

"Hey, Buff, did you fight _in_ the lake?" Dawn asked.

"In the lake, under a waterfall, in a grotto. It kicked my ass Esther Williams style."

"But you did triumph," Phillipis said. "Excellent. The Nahgem Beast will never thieve from my walnut stores again."

"Walnuts?" Buffy goggled at him. "I went through watery Hell over walnuts?"

"Walnuts are not easily come by here, and I can not abide thieves. If it comforts you, there are others in these mountains who had far more grievous complaints against the Beast."

Phillipis took the head from Buffy and went into his lodge. Following him, the Slayer decided she didn't want to know what he was going to do with it.

Dawn fetched Buffy a towel to dry herself, more concerned with the yellowing scrolls scattered all around than her sister's comfort. Buffy was sorely tempted to shake her head like a dog, but decided to be good -- at least until Xander was back. Maybe she could booby-trap Phillipis' bedroom before they left. _Bet he went all macho in his bedroom_, she thought, _with animals skins on the floor and leather all around . . . _

She shook off yet another fantasy as Phillipis returned. "For your second task, you must retrieve the Book of Ekim from the wizard E'oj. I loaned it to him in 1621, and then he moved to another plane of existence without returning it. I'll give you a medallion that will take you there and back, and guard you against the effects of sorcery."

"This isn't something else lame, is it?" Buffy asked. "Like a book of Dark Age chicken recipes or woodcuts of Saxon girls gone wild?"

"Hardly. The Book of Ekim contains 17 spells for ending the world using common household items," Phillipis told her. "The chicken recipe was just something I tucked into the end pages; I don't really need that back."

"Well, alright then," Buffy said, taking the medallion from Phillipis' slender yet manly hands. She ran off before a fantasy could take form.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Buffy returned, Dawn and Phillipis were sun-bathing in front of the lodge. _Nice to have so much free time_, Buffy thought, wondering where Dawn's skimpy two-piece had come from.

"Wow," Dawn commented, "About time you got back. I was one day away from going in after you."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked. "I've only been gone four hours."

"Four hours their time, five days ours." Phillipis explained. "A month our time would have been cause for alarm, but your sister is very protective."

"She's a peach," Buffy said, eyeing the freshly tanned Dawn. "By the way, E'oj said you were the one who borrowed the book first, and he only took back his own property."

"Did he?" Phillipis asked blandly, taking the Book of Ekim from Buffy's hands. "Then I'll be having further trouble from him. It should be invigorating." He left to lock the Book away.

Buffy watched his retreating back with narrow eyes. "I don't trust that guy an inch."

"He's a mage, Buffy. Full of shadows and corners, nooks and crannies. Speaking of which, how'd it go with that E'oj?"

"Not so bad," Buffy admitted. "I found his lair, we introduced ourselves, he made tea, we chatted for a bit, then fought a pitched battle for the Book of Ekim. I won, he handed the book over and invited me to drop by for a visit anytime I was on his plane of existence. Nice guy, not like some I could mention."

"C'mon, Buffy; Phil's a decent guy, well as decent as he can be, and he'll come through for us in the end," Dawn assured her.

"I don't know," Buffy said irritably, "Phillipis is so peculiar and annoying . . . and why are you rolling your eyes?"

"You're in love," Dawn said.

"I am not in love!" Buffy exclaimed. "Didn't you just hear me call him . . .?"

"Peculiar and annoying, yeah yeah yeah. Buffyworld speak for I'm-on-the-verge-of-all-consuming-eternal-love." Dawn looked at her sister with sympathy. "I've been hearing this since the Angel days; don't you think I know all the signs by now? At least Phil is completely hunkalicious and doesn't brood."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phillipis returned carrying an armful of packages wrapped in brown paper and tied in twine.

"These are to be delivered to the Akire demon who lives in the hollow about 10 miles southwest of here. There's no missing the place; she collects wind chimes and you'll be able to hear them from about three miles off."

"There's nothing living or recently living in these things, is there?" Buffy asked, eyeing the parcels suspiciously.

"No, no. A few orbs, a few books, a few potions. Payment for some work she did for me awhile ago."

"I'm doing a mail run?" Buffy asked, astonished. "This qualifies as a task?"

Phillipis shrugged. "I'm more than satisfied that you're worthy, but three tasks _is_ the tradition. Besides, I don't trust the postal service and this will save me the trip."

Buffy stared as Phillipis returned to his lodge. "Well," she muttered, "This beats lake fighting or a trip to the _Twilight Zone_."

She started off down the path, studying the directions Phillipis had printed on top of one of the packages. Dawn followed the parcel laden Slayer a short ways.

"Buffy, you should know you're all Phil talked about while you were away retrieving that book. The man is majorly crushed on you."

Buffy glanced at Dawn, uncomfortable. "Why are you telling me this? I was thinking you were kind of interested in him."

"Buffy, please. Phil's a great guy but I'm holding out for someone in my age range. And I'm telling you this because you have a habit of shooting yourself in the foot with men, getting all suspicious and insecure and secretive and driving them away when they want to stay. Phillipis is the chance of a lifetime, and I don't want to watch you blow this."

Dawn leaned over and kissed her sister's cheek, then turned and walked back up the path without another word.

Buffy re-adjusted the packages in her arms and went to complete her final task, deep in thought.

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Her tasks completed, Buffy waited with Dawn in Phillipis' lodge for the mage to return Xander to his friends.

Phillipis closed his eyes, more in comfort it seemed than concentration. His lips moved silently for a moment, he made an odd gesture with his hands and Xander was standing before them.

Stunned by the suddenness of his reappearance, the three humans stood frozen, staring. Then Xander whirled around frantically, searching the corners of the room with crazed eyes and grabbing himself as if afraid he'd go flying apart. He stopped whirling when he saw Phillipis.

"Another one! I can tell, they all glow!" he yelled. "They glow in the dark, and in the light too, sort of!"

Dawn and Buffy ran to him. "Xander, it's OK. Phil helped you, he brought you back," Dawn told him, trying to grab hold of him and stop his jittering.

"You're safe now Xander," Buffy joined her assurances to Dawn's.

"But how do I know that?" Xander cried, wild-eyed. "I have to be able to know that, and know it of my own known knowingness, you know?"

Phillipis snorted in disgust, and snapped his fingers abruptly. Xander disappeared.

"What . . . where did Xander go?" Buffy wailed.

"Forgive me, if he'd remained a moment longer I would not have been responsible for my temper. I find him disagreeable," Phillipis told her.

"But he'll be OK, right, Phil?" Dawn asked.

"Of course, little one. I've sent him to my apprentice Meghan, with instructions for his care. She'll be able to calm him down and keep him safe, she's a very talented young sorceress," Phillipis chuckled. "I sincerely fear for anyone who crosses her. I stole Meghan's allegiance away from my twin sister, and she was well worth the wrath that was aroused."

"Geez," Buffy groaned. "More sorceresses. I should have just gone to Russo to start with."

"Ah, then you've met my sister," Phillipis said, brightening. "Is she still enamored of some dreadful Englishman?"

Buffy was speechless.

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The next day Buffy and Dawn prepared to leave, armed with a guiding spirit light that would keep them on the right road until they reached the sorceress Meghan. Phillipis walked them to their SUV.

"I've enjoyed your visit very much," he told them both. "Perhaps we will see one another again?"

"Perhaps," Buffy said nervously. "Though we've got things to do, um, people to catch up with."

"Your Watcher, your vampire friend." Phillipis nodded. "Dawn told me about them, and your quest. Very admirable."

"Thanks." Buffy shifted around in the passenger seat. "You know, it'd be nice to take a break sometime. Maybe go visiting without having to fight anything. When we have time."

Phillipis smiled. "My family has a villa in Rome, and I've been meaning to return there. When you and your friends want to take a holiday, perhaps you would join me. When you get to the city, anyone can direct you. Just ask for the Immortal."

"The Immortal?" Buffy raised her eyebrows.

Phillipis shrugged. "You know how it is with the nicknames you get when you're young. They stick to you forever."

TBC


	13. Set the Night on Fire

**Episode 8.12 Set the Night on Fire**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS and AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 12 features Laura, who is paired with Angelus. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

_**Many thanks to Jen (the real one) for editing help, comments and review.**_

**In previous episodes: Following the destruction of Sunnydale, our heroes find themselves searching out newly empowered Slayers, stumbling into assorted mystical adventures and, quite unintentionally, on a road trip across the U.S.A. They've also met some Auxiliary Slayers (Slayers brought back from the dead before Buffy), namely Spike's girlfriend Karen, and her friend Jen, who has become Giles' inamorata. They've lost, found and re-lost Xander, whom Buffy and Dawn are searching for down South. Spike is now joining Giles and Jen in Chicago, where they are hot on the trail of Angelus, rumored to be raising Hell in the Windy City as the kept boy of Laura, a 500 year old master vampire and head of the Chicago office of Wolfram & Hart.**

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Laura lit a dozen black candles; she could have started the bathroom's fireplace but candles were so much cozier.

Shrugging off her silk robe and leaving her tightly coiled black hair up, she slid her marble-white body into the immense sunken bath and accepted a goblet of warm AB- from her companion.

"So, this plan of yours to make Chicago's night life more entertaining," she asked him, her large, liquidly black eyes glimmering, "tell me about it."

Relaxing in the tepid water beside Laura, Angelus smiled.

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Spike pulled into the parking lot of the Chicago steak house with a signature screech of tires. Inside the restaurant, Giles automatically began cleaning his glasses while Jen smiled. _This should be a kick_, she thought.

"Ordered yet?" Spike asked as he sat down at their table.

"Your usual: anything bloody, and whiskey." Jen told him.

Spike winked at her. "What, no flowering onion here?"

Giles shuddered involuntarily. "Tonight will be disagreeable enough, William, without your bizarre gustatory passions running amuck."

"Ya need to relax, Rupes. Loosen up, enjoy life . . . "

Giles, uneasy at the twinkle in Jen's eye and distrusting the gleam in Spike's, cut this line of discussion off before it could wander into personal territory.

"What do we know," he began a little too loudly, then paused as the waitress deposited his and Jen's salads, "about Angelus' methods and habits? Jen? Spike?"

"He favors posh surroundings," Jen told him, "but I've never gotten a handle on where his money comes from. He doesn't stay in one place long enough to either earn or steal that much."

Spike snorted. "Easy enough to explain. Birds. Toffs who like burly young men. Minions. Angelus' money always comes from sponging."

"Also, Angelus is a master of torment and a dilettante of means," Jen continued.

"He never sticks with one method of inflictin' misery or madness," Spike agreed. "He's a soddin' seeker, always lookin' for new and improved methods of destruction."

"Indeed," Giles said. "We know, from some experience, that he enjoys complicated, lengthy dramas of pain."

Spike shrugged. "He'll put in a quick kill here and there if time runs short, but he considers it an offense to his artistry."

"There's little danger he'll run short of anything here," Jen said as she speared an olive. "His new owner has a boatload of money, and it's a cinch most of the city officials and police force are in her pocket."

Giles chased a cherry tomato glumly around his plate. "That explains the remarkable lack of headway being made on stopping his crime spree. The papers are full of theories -- most recently that five different psychopaths are working in unison -- and various usual suspects have been questioned, but nothing happens."

"Except more horrific, if stylish, murders. People from all walks of life are kidnapped; a rare few are found later walking the streets, babbling incoherently." Jen sighed, putting her fork down.

"Churches and nuns have both been desecrated." Giles gave up on the tomato.

"Well," Spike said after a pause to let the waitress deliver their dinners and take away the half-eaten salads, "Angelus is certainly makin' up for lost time. Must have been goin' crazy inside that prat Angel." Spike took a bite of his blood-rare steak, savoring it slowly.

"And now he's plugged into ultimate, organized evil," Giles matched Jen's sigh. "This is bad."

"So, it's kill the bastard, right?" Spike asked. Jen gave the Watcher a hopeful look.

"I only wish our mission where so straight-forward," Giles said, "but remember Angelus is part of Angel."

Jen's expression dimmed, but Spike continued to look cheerful.

"Who is Buffy's dear friend and our fellow champion in the fight against evil," Giles explained slowly and carefully.

"Oh, yeah. Right," Spike said as he caught on. Angel/Angelus was all one and the same to him. "Guess you would have to consider that."

At Jen's raised eyebrow and Giles' glare, Spike reluctantly gave in. "I'll have to consider it too. Balls."

Jen squeezed Spike's hand in sympathy. "The problem is separating Angelus from Laura, then containing Angelus until he can be fixed. Not that way," Jen finished as she saw Spike's mouth open.

Spike grinned. "And speakin' of separatin' lovebirds, how are you two holdin' up with an entire table between you for an hour? Perishin' hard on certain muscles, eh Rupert?"

As Giles sputtered indignantly, Jen smothered her laughter and held one hand up. "I didn't tell him anything, darling, I swear."

Spike laughed in the Watcher's face. "Vampire, remember? All _sorts_ of heightened senses."

"Would that I could forget," Giles grumbled into his coffee.

"Speaking of which," Jen said, "there seems to be precious little information on this Laura."

"Other than what we've learned from Clair Wilkins and Spike's new friends, not much. She's 500 years old and presumably a lawyer, if she's heading up Wolfram & Hart's Chicago office." Giles patted his pockets and came up with a single sheet of paper. "Gunn was able to find this out." He handed the paper to Spike.

Spike read through it quickly. "Lean pickins', but this is interestin': it's rumored her first kill after rising was her own sire."

"Apparently not pleased about being turned," Jen ventured.

"She's adjusted remarkably well since then," Giles said dryly, "if the speed at which she became a master vampire is even close to accurate."

"Says here there's a dance club Laura frequents," Spike continued, "no, wait; that Laura owns and Angelus frequents. The Braided Monkey." Spike looked at the other two.

"I didn't bother to ask," Giles admitted.

"I'm not even curious about it," Jen sniffed delicately.

"Well," Spike considered, "she's owned it for a few years so it can't be anything Angelus got up to with primates."

"Spike, please. The word pictures." Giles looked strained.

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A few hours later the trio was outside the Braided Monkey, eyeing the crowd waiting to get in and the huge vampire doorman charged with keeping the insufficiently famous or attractive faces out.

"It'll take cunning and careful maneuvering to circumvent this obstacle without arousing notice," Giles whispered to Spike. "You move around to one side of him . . . "

"Uh, Rupert," Spike nodded over to Jen, who was walking up to the doorman.

"Come on over here, darlin'" she told the big vampire in a honeyed drawl.

The monolith grinned, advancing on her. "Just how I like my humans -- blond and . . . "

The rest of his words vanished, as he did, in an immense cloud of dust. Jen turned to the frozen crowd beside her.

"Go home," she said sweetly. They fled.

"Then there's that approach," Giles remarked. "I didn't see a weapon".

"Jen always carries an oak stiletto on her. Unobtrusive and efficient. C'mon, or we'll miss all the fun."

Entering the packed club, they were immediately met by a very nervous manager. "I saw what happened with Dwayne, and I don't want no trouble. I know who you are, Slayer, and believe me -- I got no beef with you. I'm just trying to earn my unliving here and get along with everybody." He stared at Jen. "You're a lot taller than I heard."

"A natural blond, too," Jen murmured as she brushed by him, scanning the crowd for Angelus.

"Wrong Slayer," Spike told the manager as Giles followed Jen into the dancing throng. "The one you're thinkin' of _is_ a bitsy crumpet, but she's not here. Yet."

Incapable of becoming whiter than he already was, the manager turned a pale green instead.

"There's more than _one_?"

"Got to keep up better than that, mate. Slayers are comin' out of the woodwork these days and it's not just dangerous little girls the underworld has to worry about anymore; their mums and grannies are in the game now too. Prob'ly got two or three Slayers huntin' right in this city." Spike smirked as he left the manager quivering by the door, staring out, horrified, into the once secure darkness.

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Jen swayed rhythmically as she walked through the press of dancers, unconsciously keeping time with the music. A vamp who gave a start at the sight of her followed it with a glance to a far table; she whispered "thank you" in his ear before dusting him. His oblivious partner continued dancing.

She could just make Angelus out at the table, his arms around two barely dressed, barely legal, human women. Both women looked to be there of their own volition so Jen dismissed them from her concerns. She'd long ago lost the desire to rescue donors -- there was no point wasting time on people who had comprehension without common sense.

Giles, who'd been closely following the Slayer's swinging hips, stopped just short of bumping into her as Jen stood considering how to draw Angelus away from his snack food. Suddenly, Angelus stiffened and started looking around, eyes narrowed. Jen moved protectively in front of Giles when, to their surprise, Angelus dumped his two human companions and stalked purposefully towards the back of the club. With a shrug to Giles, Jen followed the vampire, Giles hard on her heels this time, having momentarily forgotten about her hips.

The Slayer and Watcher were led to the alley behind The Braided Monkey. Following the sound of Angelus' voice, they found him chatting with Spike; grandsire and least-favorite son were having an unfriendly family reunion.

"Spike. It's a real surprise to see you here -- not a pleasant one, but a surprise nonetheless. Did you lose track of Drusilla's skirts again or did a Girl Scout troop run your chipped ass off the west coast?"

"That's a change of subject for you, old man. Usually you're all Buffy, all the time. I guess four years away from Sunnydale could break even your obsession with mini-Slayer. Maybe not though. Does the new owner have you on a tight leash? Some birds just can't take any competition at all."

Angelus growled. "Watch your mouth, boy. I'm no Master's lackey. I have the run of Chicago on my own!"

"If that's the best lie you can come up with, just tell the truth," Giles observed.

Angelus whipped around with a snarl, keeping Spike in his peripheral vision as he did so. Spike leaned against a dumpster and nonchalantly lit a cigarette.

"Well, well. It's old home week with the Sunnydale crowd," Angelus said. "I've misjudged you, William, if you've brought me a present of a tiresome, middle-aged Watcher and . . . what? Buffy's older, better nourished sister?"

Angelus reached for Jen only to be spun around and sent flying. He slammed solidly against the dumpster, inches from an amused Spike.

"Where are my manners?" Spike asked. "Giles obviously doesn't need an introduction. Jen, this wanker is Angelus. Angel, this is Jen. The Slayer." Spike lowered his voice confidentially. "I'd go easy on the grabby moves, if I were you."

"The Slayer? Are the Powers recruiting from among housewives now?" Angelus sneered. "And don't tell me you've started hanging with the white hats, even you aren't that whipped," he added to Spike.

"Not whipped," Spike said, flicking his cigarette down, "just a bloke who likes a good, hard-to-win fight." He clocked Angelus soundly on the jaw, sending the other vampire spinning back across the alley in Jen's direction.

Jen stopped his progress with a kick to the chest that dropped Angelus like an ox. She stepped back to let him get his bearings and stagger to his feet again.

"Recruiting among housewives and others these days, yes," she told him. "But I was Slayer from 1965 until 1974, when I was briefly interrupted by death. I've so looked forward to meeting you, Angelus."

"Then by all means, lets have the first dance," Angelus said, coming toward her. Jen backhanded Angelus sharply. "I accept," she said. As Slayer and vampire set to it, Spike strolled over to Giles.

"And our plans are what, once Jen gets the poofter knocked unconscious?" Spike asked.

"We've got some heavy chains and locks in the boot of Jen's Astin Martin, and your DeSoto should be spacious enough to transport Angelus in safety if not comfort to the nearest mage with a re-joining spell," Giles told him.

Spike's query about where they would find this mage was cut short by the arrival of a 2006 canary yellow Viper that came roaring into the alley and stopped a few feet from them.

A small, elegant woman in an expensive black business suit got out and looked over the scene coolly before addressing Giles and Spike.

"I trust there's going to be no nonsense with crosses and stakes being waved in my face," she said.

Spike grinned. "Would it do any good to rush you while our Jen keeps Angelus busy?"

"Points for effort," Laura conceded with a wintry smile, "but you're much too young for it to make any difference, legendary dark warrior though you once were, and this handsome human would end in a truly sorry state."

Angelus, sprawled on the ground after a roundhouse kick to the head, broke away from the fight before Jen could close in. Taking advantage of Giles and Spike's distraction, Angelus ran past them and jumped into the Viper. He tore out of the alley, vanishing down street in seconds.

"Well," Laura said, "that was my favorite car."

"You won't mind if we chase his arse down, then?" Spike asked.

Laura shrugged. "Chase him all you like, catch him if you can. Torture him a bit if it amuses you -- it'll get him properly softened up for the little talk _I_ want to have with him about appropriating my possessions without permission. Just remember that Angelus is also one of my possessions, and I won't regard with a friendly eye anything more than 'softened'."

With that Laura snapped her fingers and began walking to the mouth of the alley. A limo pulled up smartly from no-where and the passenger door swung open. Laura got in, the door swung shut and the car pulled away, all in one seamless motion.

Giles looked over to Jen and Spike. "I don't suppose there needs to be any discussion of why we're not going after Laura?"

'No," Jen agreed, scuffed a bit but cheeks flushed pink and eyes bright after her battle with Angelus, "but what a splendid fight that would be!"

TBC


	14. Witchy Woman

-1**_Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play._**

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS or AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 13 features Meghan, who is paired with Doyle. I will also periodically be using the names of various AASCers backwards as demon names. Don't say I learned nothing from ME.**_

_**Many thanks to Jennifer for editing help, comments and review.**_

_(In previous episodes, Angelus was found and lost again, and so was Xander though with less dismay experienced all around since Buffy and Dawn had a master wizard's help in retrieving him.)_

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Meghan stood posed with poise against the frame of the hallway door, one hand on her hip and an insouciant half smile on her lips. She tossed her mink brown hair over one pale shoulder and her heather-colored eyes sparkled as she regarded her charges.

"Shift yerself, ya shaved ape. Yer in my chair."

"You snooze, you lose, Irish. This is the only one not in sunlight and my stories are on."

"I ain't any fonder of the sun than you, prat. Yer arse can plant itself on the carpet for Telly Tubbies." A quick tilt of the chair sent Xander to the floor with a loud thump.

"I _do not _watch . . . !"

Meghan tuned out; they hadn't stopped bickering since her mentor Phillipis zapped her ex-rival Benni's vampire into her home a week ago.

Actually, he'd been her ex-rival's ex-vampire at the time, but a lingering sense of competition had driven Meghan to re-vamp him, just to show no one in particular that she could.

Meghan didn't regret her defection from Russo to Phillipis, but she did miss the backstabbing and jockeying for favor that went on among Russo's numerous apprentices. Guerilla combat always brought out the best in Meghan.

Just then a fairy light flitted in through the window and winked out.

"Our guests are here, boys," Meghan announced, then opened the door to reveal Buffy in pre-knock position with Dawn beside her.

Buffy's eyes zeroed in immediately on Xander. "Slayer kibble again," she said.

"What!" Dawn took a hard look at Xander. "How did that happen? We got that fixed!"

"Oh, relax yourself," Meghan said airily. "I was just tinkering a bit, I can tinker him back."

"No, you won't," Xander growled, rising from the floor. "I've had it with being the humble human heart of the Scooby Gang and getting my monkey butt kicked by the Big Nasty every week or so. No more ordinary shlub for me, it's my turn to be bad ass guy."

Meghan shrugged. "It's his life."

"What do you mean, 'it's his life'? You interfered fast enough to tinker him from a human," Dawn pointed out.

"He was irritating as a human; I like him better this way myself."

"No problem," Buffy said, her eyes unblinking on Xander. "I haven't had a decent meal in . . . I don't know how long."

"Well, I guess I'm not the only one with surprises," Xander purred. "Last I saw of you, you couldn't pick me out of a vamp line-up. You get an upgrade to Slayer 4.0?"

"I've gotten more in touch with my inner Primal," Buffy conceded.

"Never mind that," Dawn interrupted hastily, "we want Xander back in the same condition Phillipis sent him to you! Everything will be happily ever after then."

"Over my newly dead body," Xander snarled.

"You're only half deaded, but I can finish that up for you."

"Oh, let me help with that Blondie, I'm begging ya!"

"I'll have no dust in my living room. It's just been vacuumed!

Dawn gave up all thought of intervention and went outside to sit in a patch of sunlight, thinking longingly of the pub crawl Spike had promised for her 18th birthday. Eventually the shouting inside died down, followed by the slamming of multiple doors. After awhile Meghan poked her head outside, caught sight of Dawn and gave her a grin.

"All clear," she told the teenager. "Xander's moping in the basement, getting used to being human again, and Buffy's in the kitchen eating lunch. That woman eats like a horse."

"Xander agreed to go back to being human?" Dawn asked, relieved.

"Yeah. After Buffy called him slayer kibble, lunch truck boy and a dinner bell that won't stop ringing, all within 30 minutes, he decided he was actually safer as a human."

"Sniveling little tricked up git," came an editorial comment from inside.

"He seems awfully familiar to me," Dawn said frowning.

"Doyle. You probably met him when he was with that vampire detective agency in LA."

"Doyle! Cordy's Doyle?" Dawn was astonished. "But he's heroically dead, everyone said so!"

"Everything done by magic can be undone; it's just a matter of skill. Doyle wasn't all that hard to bring back, though I did have to resurrect him as a zombie after retrieving his physical essence through a hole in the space/time continuum."

"Wasn't that space/time thing tricky?" Dawn asked.

"A bit. I practiced by bringing the Venus de Milo's arms back for one day -- caused a drinking binge among the museum staff." Meghan grinned happily at the memory.

"I like to think of Doyle as the ultimate zombie," she continued, "obedient and aesthetically pleasing, always daisy fresh and non-deteriorating. Top _that_, little Miss I-can-magic-the-living-into-the-living-dead!"

Dawn glanced around curiously. "Who are you talking to?"

"What? Oh, just people from a past life. Anyway, Phillipis thinks this spell will be worth millions -- most of which he'll get, as my master." Meghan shrugged. "The price of apprenticeship. At least I get the pleasure of Doyle's company in my otherwise ascetic life."

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Dawn opened the large picnic basket Doyle had prepared for the next leg of their journey and examined the contents. It was a sensuous mosaic of food: several layers of sandwiches made with a variety of breads, multi-colored fruits and vegetables, clear tubs of glossy potato salad and baked beans, assorted glistening bottles of beverages. Doyle really was a very human-friendly zombie.

The trio had pulled off the road in Allentown, PA, when Dawn and Xander's tummies had started to growl. Buffy, although she'd already eaten lunch at Meghan's, allowed that she could toss down a few crudités and some sparkling water. Dawn passed a roast beef sandwich and the potato salad to Xander, then selected a chicken salad sandwich and container of mango slices for herself. Another sparkling water went beside her plate before she handed Xander a beer.

Xander popped the cap off and took a healthy swig, then sighed with sensual contentment. "OK, that tops the list of good things about being a mere human. So, what's up with the quest? What did I miss?"

"Well," Dawn began as Buffy munched a baby carrot, "We found Willow again (she's in training to be a Guardian) and then Willow helped find you. We're still working on fixing the Angel/Angelus problem. Angel remains in voluntary bondage to Russo the Sorceress, and Angelus managed to get away from Giles, Spike and Jen after they'd tracked him to Chicago."

"Jen?" Xander asked.

"Slayer friend of Karen's, and Tara's aunt. You'll love her; she'd got a great body. Anyway, Giles did a locating spell and found Angelus was heading to Canada to hide out. Spike said when Jen heard that she laughed so hard she couldn't breathe."

"Why?" Xander asked, puzzled. "What's in Canada other than supernaturally nice people?"

"Isabel the French Slayer," Buffy piped up, "A friend of Karen and Jen's, and with a serious grudge against Angelus, what with her family back in France being Catholic and having some nun ancestors."

"Holy cow," Xander said around a bite of roast beef. "This one practically tells itself."

"Practically," Buffy agreed, then told the story anyway. "In the late 1700s, five of Isabel's fore . . . aunts took orders. Five beautiful sisters, all nuns and all in the same convent must have looked like one big bulls-eye to Angelus. He struck, and Isabel's family has been hunting him off and on over the centuries since then. It's just his rotten luck that the family eventually gave birth to a Slayer -- who currently lives in Toronto, for which Angelus is now making a beeline." Buffy grinned and bit off the head of a broccoli floret.

"So, we're going to Toronto now?" Xander asked.

"Nope," Dawn answered. "Giles and Spike are going to stay on Angelus' heels. Jen took off to help another Slayer with a Pillihp Abomination attack on Tarawa; she said with Angelus headed straight for Isabel, we didn't need anymore Slayer help. Actually, she said Angelus would be lucky to leave Canada ungelded, but that's pretty much the same thing. We're going to New York, since that's where Russo is now and our sources say Angel is with her."

"We have sources?"

"Lots of them," Dawn said confidently. "But, um, this one was actually Ethan Rayne who isn't, strictly speaking, _our_ source."

"He said to come get Angel before he, Ethan, ran amuck with a machete and displeased his beloved Russo by chopping up her pet," Buffy supplied. "Guess Angel's abject toadying has lost some of its charm."

Xander grinned. "Man, Dead Boy can't catch a break coming or going."

"So you're OK now with not being a Dead Boy Jr?" Dawn asked carefully. "After you got ping-ponged around so much between fighting the undead and joining them, you really seemed reluctant to lose the powers and the strength and all that other creature of the night stuff."

"Adaptability," Xander told her with a shrug. "That's the power we mere humans wield against the forces of everything else in the world. I'm ready to ply it in the great fight with huge fore-headed vampires who can't find a decent demon hairstylist to save their unlives. Besides, I still have my memories of hanging out in the underworld with a bunch of sexy, uninhibited evil-doers; I can enjoy using those to bore everyone with for the rest of my life -- once I've gotten over my natural, modest reticence."

Buffy nodded, satisfied, while Dawn gave Xander a hug. "Good to have you back, Xan. As soon as Dawn finishes her mangos, we're off to New York. We'll establish a base of operations and keep watch over Russo and Rayne until the guys rejoin us, hopefully with Angelus in tow or at least chasing him into New York ahead of them."

"Then what?" Dawn asked. "We somehow force Russo to de-split Angel/Angelus?"

"I say we kidnap Rayne and hold him hostage until Russo complies with our demands," Xander suggested. "Giles will like that one. We can let him 'guard' Ethan."

"Not likely to have a happy outcome, since Russo is apt to send all our backsides into a Hell dimension for it," Buffy told them. "No planning now, gang; we can do the heavy brain work when we're hunkered down in a nice, comfy suite at the Regency. Let's just finish lunch and get to New York. Xander, you're driving from here on out. Dawn, toss me a kiwi."

**TBC**


	15. Goodbye Stranger

-1**_Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play._**

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS or AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 14 features Robbie and Jules, who, sadly, are not paired with anyone. **_

_**Many thanks to my beta Jennifer for editing help, comments and review.**_

_(In previous episodes, Angelus was found and lost again, and Giles and Spike have undertaken the job of re-finding him and dragging his sorry butt to NY, where they will meet up with Buffy, Dawn, and the restored Xander. But of course it will not be easy or without distraction.)_

"Buck up, mate," Spike said as he shared a morning cuppa with the glum Watcher. "Sudden changes without warning are part of a Slayer's life. One of their sister Slayers yells 'help' and they're off -- no questions asked, no pissing around with long goodbyes. Can't count the number of times I'd settled in for a visit with my Karen only to have her called to the ass-end of nowhere to fight this demon invasion or that spirit infestation."

"You're right, of course," Giles admitted, then mentally shook himself out of his funk. Fine thing to be getting advice on love and Slayers from a vampire. "I'll see Jen again when all this is settled and she's back from saving some part of the world. With any luck, we'll have time for a bit of a holiday."

"That's the spirit, Rupert! Now, let's get out of here and be on our way."

"Right. God knows what Angelus is doing to the Canadians while we dither about in Chicago."

"The Canadians are fine, the Poof's probably chained to Izzy's basement wall by now, watching while she heats up iron pinchers." Spike smiled wistfully. "That girl always did know how to have a good time."

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Giles and Spike had barely arrived in Detroit that evening before being accosted by two thugs. One was small, human and rat-like. The other was huge, demonic and monolithic, literally. It bore a striking resemblance to the great stone figures of Easter Island.

"Miss Roberta wants to speak to ya," Ratboy said as his flinty companion scooped Spike and Giles up and held them tucked securely under either armpit. The giant waited impassively as a few seconds of struggle settled the question of escaping its embrace.

The human beamed at them as Giles and Spike hung limply from the demon's arms.

"Good," he said, "it's always nicer when ya accept reality." He blindfolded both men then trotted off, the big demon with its sagging burdens lumbering effortlessly after him.

The rat-like human proved to be the chatty type and kept up an endless flow of monologue during their journey, most of it concerning his employer, Miss Roberta, the premier sword and fantasy convention organizer on the Earth plane. Her conventions featured real demons and real dragons, of which the captive audience heard much, but in all his garrulous descriptions the minion never mentioned why they were meeting this individual.

Giles and Spike were eventually dumped and de-blindfolded in an opulent lobby, and directed to go immediately through the large inner doors so as to not keep the busy Miss Roberta waiting. The minions departed, and a quick check by Spike revealed that they had locked the outer doors behind them.

"When he said a 'demon organizer', do you imagine there's any chance he meant it colloquially, as in, 'a very good or exceptional organizer'?" Giles wondered. "After the last few days, I really would prefer that."

"More like, she's an actual demon," Spike observed as they walked into Miss Roberta's office.

The woman perched on the edge of a massive oak desk had dappled legs crossed elegantly under a tight mini-skirt, which also accommodated a long, barbed tail. A thick cluster of tawny, pale-tipped quills swept back from her forehead and brushed the shoulders of her velvet jacket.

"Welcome, gentlemen," she greeted them in a sultry voice; "I suppose you're wondering why I've had you kidnapped. I have a problem I believe you are unusually well-qualified to handle."

"Kidnappings," Giles said, "do not commonly increase a human's sense of co-operation."

"Or a vampire's," Spike added, "but I've no objection to listening to what a beautiful woman has to say." Spike gave Roberta one of his more alluring smiles.

Roberta quivered, a motion that did interesting things to the dappling on her skin. "I've been warned about the Dark Warrior's less combative skills, but I don't think I was warned nearly enough," she purred, hugging herself under her full breasts.

Giles rolled his eyes. "Dear God. If it will end this conversation . . ."

Roberta crinkled her nose at him. "You humans are such prudes, and always in a rush! Down to business then. I've been having lethal trouble at my cons. Humans make up the bulk of my customers, and I pride myself on maintaining a less than 5 mortality rate among them. That hasn't changed. It's my demon participants and the dragons I employ that have started turning up dead more frequently. This is seriously hurting my business. The Dungeons & Dragons conventions are my meat and potatoes -- if the dragons go into hiding and the demon role-players stay away, I've lost the edge that brings in 99 of my human business and then where am I? Back on the world without shrimp, that's where." Roberta shuddered delicately.

"Yes, I can see how all this would be a problem for you but why kidnap us specifically to fix it?" Giles asked.

"Because I'm almost certain my trouble is a Slayer. Word's gotten around about the sudden global increase in Slayers, and the carnage at my cons has all the earmarks of a Slayer gone wild. I need her stopped."

"I'll not kill a Slayer, least of all for a demon's profit margin," Giles told her stiffly.

"Who said anything about killing?" Roberta asked. "I only want the girl to stop so I can run my cons in peace, or chaos as the case may be, just not the kind that bankrupts me. I'm sure the Slayer attacks are all a matter of misunderstanding. Once it's sorted out you can take her away to official Slayerland, no cartilage off my hooves."

"We get any consideration for all this trouble we're taking on, willy-nilly?" Spike asked.

Roberta smiled and leaned forward. "I could give you a little something, perhaps. What do you have in mind?"

"My standard rate is one million," Spike said coolly, "but considering this should only take a single day, I'll accept a mere $800 thousand."

"Spike!" Giles hissed, "Why are you dickering over money? We need to just get on with it and get out of here!"

"My accountant has notified me that one job in Texas does not constitute restoring my financial solvency, especially if I run around buying classic cars," Spike told Giles under his breath.

"The job should only take you two a few hours," Roberta interrupted, "$250 thousand."

"Because it's being done by better than most mortals or demons could afford. $500 thousand."

"Done," Roberta told him. "You go put the brakes on your errant Slayer; I'll get your money."

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Giles and Spike found themselves outside again, after being escorted blindfolded from Roberta's lair by the mismatched minions.

"Ya come back here when ya finished yer errand for Miss Roberta," Ratboy said. "We'll see ya get back in." The pair departed.

Spike glanced up at the dark sky. "Got a few hours left, Rupes. Right to it, then?"

"God, yes; let's get this over with. Roberta's got a convention on downtown; we can suss that out."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The convention was bedlam. Hundreds of kiosks covered the floor of the main room, selling costumes, chain mail, weapons and other accoutrements. A quick inspection showed the weaponry to be lethally real.

Giles pulled the admiring Spike away from a katana blade stand and suggested they find out where the role-playing was going on.

"We'll probably have our best luck if we track the dragons", he told the vampire. "They should be an irresistible target for a young, gung-ho Slayer."

Giles and Spike were soon sneaking across the enclosed grounds of the convention center, trailing a small, dark green dragon. It hesitated at an expanse of open ground as if deciding between a quick run that could put it face to face with a sword bearing opponent or taking flight, which could leave it open to arrows.

As it waffled, Giles noticed a dark-haired young woman standing across the expanse, on the other side of the dragon. She was dressed in jeans and tank top, and her forearms were subtly muscled in a way that did not suggest the gym. Before Giles could turn to his companion, he sensed Spike go on alert; it was a reaction he'd become familiar with in the years since the vampire had joined them. Giles' own experience and intuition concurred with Spike's response -- the dark-haired woman was a Slayer.

The dragon suddenly made up its mind and started a run across the open ground. The Slayer streaked toward it, so intently focused that she didn't notice Spike coming in from the side until he slammed into her.

As they both went sprawling to the ground, the dragon made good its escape, shooting upwards into the night. Before Giles could move in to lend anyone a hand, Spike went whirling up into the air as well as the Slayer kicked him off of her.

"You interfering little leech!" she snarled as she flipped upright, "I'll find a way to kill you twice for that!"

Spike landed on his feet and shook his head a bit a clear it. "You're gonna have to try that some other time, darlin', we . . ."

The rest was lost as the dark haired Slayer's fist connected with his chin, sending him scrambling to keep his feet.

"Wait a second . . .!" he got out before her other fist landed a stunning blow to his chest. If his heart had been beating, that would have stopped it. In the background he heard Giles saying politely, "excuse me, Miss", and decided enough of the friendly approach.

Matching the Slayer snarl for snarl, he kicked out at her knee and missed as she swiveled away but got her jaw with his fist. Spike had the brief satisfaction of seeing her eyes tear up before the point of her boot met his chin and knocked him end over end.

He spun around and got back to his feet fast enough to avoid a second kick. Leaping up, he landed a foot to the Slayer's chest, slowly forcing her away from the open ground and toward a stand of trees. "Let's see how well little Miss Death-dealer fights when I've got some trees to knock her stubborn head into," Spike smirked to himself.

His smirk faded as the Slayer unsheathed a blade strapped to her back. Giles, equally alarmed, began to protest that there was no need for such extremes when the Slayer slashed at Spike twice, deliberately missing him but forcing him back into a position she preferred.

"Nice coat," she told him. As if on cue, two flaps of leather, razor cut by the blade, fell off.

Moving faster than even he was accustomed to, Spike sent the Slayer spinning with a sudden backhand. She stopped, licked the blood off her lips and smiled at him.

"Look, vamp," she said, "I'm stronger than you, faster than you, meaner than you, and I like you. You fight back -- most of the others just run when they realize they could lose. Let's not make dying any harder for you than it needs to be. I might even let your minion go free."

It took a second for her remark to sink in.

"I beg your pardon!" Giles began, outraged, only to be cut off by a snort of derision from Spike.

"Trust me; if this bloke was one of mine I'd have torn his throat out for impertinence years ago."

"Young lady, you're laboring under a number of misapprehensions," Giles continued after he got his emotions under control.

Carefully, Giles explained to Jules, the young Slayer, who he was, who Spike was and what she was. He explained the long history of Slayers and Watchers, and the short history of fantasy conventions featuring real demons and dragons interacting with willing human participants.

"Well," Jules conceded grudgingly, "if they're paying for it I suppose I should butt out and go kill demons elsewhere, where they _aren't_ welcome."

"Precisely the function of the Watchers Council," Giles informed her. "The Council provides oversight to every aspect of a Slayer's life, both directly and through individual Watchers such as myself."

"Uh, Giles . . ." Spike began, eyeing Jules' expression, but the Watcher rolled on.

"A Watcher will guide you, direct you, train you, ensure no part of your day or night is wasted on frivolous activities," Giles droned. "Your life as a Slayer will be one of dedication to the highest purpose . . ."

"GILES," Spike said sharply, "she's gone. She left in mid-pontification."

"But, but . . . I haven't even described the rigorous training regiment yet!"

"Yeah, about that; maybe I should talk to the girls about being Slayers from now on."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Their return to the meeting point found Miss Roberta's two minions waiting for them. Although they expressed willingness to walk under their own power, the monolithic demon carried them as before. Ratboy whispered to them that carrying people off was good for the huge demon's morale. Dumped once more in front of Miss Roberta's office, they entered without knocking.

Roberta greeted at them warmly. "I couldn't be more pleased with your handling of this situation," she told them. "I don't suppose there's any way I can persuade you to go on my payroll? No? Well, here's your money." Roberta handed Spike an attaché case, which he did not bother checking for cash.

"You really are such a gentleman," she purred. "Now I must be going, so much to do with a new convention to pull together. Can I drop you anywhere?"

"It would be more agreeable to make the return trip by car than by monstrous armpit," Giles admitted.

Roberta gave a ripple of laughter. "Yes, I'm certain my Bentley will be much more agreeable. Jules, dear, bring the car around. Of course you gentlemen have already met my newest bodyguard."

Giles gaped as the Slayer entered from another room and caught the keys Roberta tossed to her.

"She's working for you? You're working for _her_? In God's name, why?" Giles asked, baffled.

Roberta shrugged. "Why not? I've no objection to her killing demons that prey on humans; humans are my main customer base. As long as she keeps her word about leaving the demons at my cons alone, I don't care what her hobbies are."

"I just wanted to confirm your story about the conventions," Jules said. "And Miss Roberta had a good job offer, with better pay and better hours and more free time to pursue my mission as I saw fit than you did."

"But the Watchers Council would have . . ." Giles began.

"Save it, Mr. Giles. You need to understand, I've got no problem having a destiny I can't escape -- I've spent my whole life preparing for it. Even before I knew what, or why, I knew there was something waiting for me that needed me to be strong, fast and able to kick butt so I gave my entire childhood to becoming that. When my destiny finally became clear to me and I got the power to put it all to use, I was _ready_. So, no offense, but I'm not about to hand over the reins to a bunch of desk monkeys in England."

Spike sighed. "Definitely, in the future, let _me_ talk up the job," he told Giles.

TBC


	16. Barefoot Girls, Dancing in the Moonlight

-1**8.15 BAREFOOT GIRLS, DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT**

_**Disclaimer: all characters other than the Mary Sues belong to ME; I own nothing else and only play.**_

_**Notice: What I'm playing at is a slightly alternate universe Season 8 for BtVS -- basically you need to know that in my little world, bits of BtVS season 5 and almost all of seasons 6 and 7 never happened. Also, kiss all of AtS season 5 goodbye. **_

_**Most of the new characters in the fic are based on (or at least using the names of) members of the All About Spike Club, and I'm pairing them up with their favorite characters from BtVS or AtS. Hence the Mary-Sueness of this fan fic. Episode 15 features Isabel, Erika and Stephanie. Isabel is paired with Lindsey MacDonald and Erika is paired with Oz. Stephanie, sadly, is alone; so very alone. **_

_**An invention of mine for this series are the auxiliary Slayers. These are women who were Slayers before Buffy and who, like Buffy, were brought back from death by either natural or supernatural means. They have all their Slayer powers intact and since very few (either human or demon) know they exist, they are less often targets and live longer lives, which has made it apparent that they age more slowly than normal humans. The series so far has introduced two auxiliary Slayers: Spike's lover Karen, and Tara's aunt Jen, who has become Giles' lover. Isabel is another auxiliary Slayer.**_

_**Many thanks to my beta Jennifer for editing help, comments and review, and to real life Isabel for lessons in authentic French curses and endearments (but especially the curses); the translations are at the end of the story.**_

The girl tore through the night, eyes wide with terror and mouth open in a silent scream. Yards ahead of her, two others ran an equally desperate race for safety. Behind them was the vampire -- sleek, lean and dark, his pace barely more than a glide as he gained on them steadily.

Suddenly, one of the runners pointed to a nearby warehouse, concrete and windowless, its steel door hanging open. The two runners in the lead raced into the bunker-like building at the same time, and slammed the door shut with the girl seconds behind them.

"Oh God, no!!" she screamed, her voice soaked in fear. "Help me! Please, please help me!" She banged her fists on the door as she cried out, but it didn't open. Daring a frightened glance behind her, she saw the vampire standing barely ten feet away, smiling.

She beat against the door helplessly, screaming the word "no" over and over. "Let me in, please," the girl finally sobbed in a voice that had abandoned hope. She sneaked a second glance over her shoulder. The vampire still hadn't moved, but his smile had turned into a smirk.

The girl gave the steel door a couple more half-hearted thumps before giving it up. "Aw, you made me, didn't you?" she asked the demon cheerfully.

The vampire didn't speak, but inclined his head to her in a polite, continental gesture. Then he pulled a long- and a short-sword from the folds of his voluminous coat and assumed a position he'd learned centuries ago and been perfecting ever since.

"Yeah, the floor show is over, I guess it's time for the fight portion of the evening's entertainment," the girl said, producing a pointy stick from who really knows where on her skimpy outfit.

Flourishing the former chair leg with an elaborate gesture, she assumed a position similar to the vampire's.

"En garde, gorgeous," she grinned.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The other two runners, who'd left the warehouse just after the fight began, clapped politely as the vampire became a pile of dust.

"You know, it's almost a shame to kill them when they're that good-looking," Dawn observed.

"Yeah, he was definitely on the not-yet-grotty side," Xander said. "Kinda takes the bloom off of living so long when you age that badly."

Buffy shrugged. "Cosmic balance or something. He'd have probably been hideous at 700." With a flip of her wrist she replaced the stake to wherever it had been before and started out of the industrial park, announcing her intention of breakfasting on pirogi's at Fil's.

A few hours of driving later and they were settled in for breakfast that the best deli in Connecticut.

"Does anyone mind if . . . "

"Dawn, your attachment to that thing is closing in on unnatural," Xander warned.

Dawn happily powered up her laptop and began checking her emails.

"Let's see," she murmured, "we've got one from Giles, one from Karen, two from Faith and . . . Oz!"

"Oz emailed you?" Buffy asked, startled.

"How'd he get your address?" Xander wondered as both he and the Slayer craned their necks to study Dawn's screen.

"No. OZ," Dawn pointed over the laptop.

"Hey guys," Daniel Osbourne greeted them laconically, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand.

Oz withstood the ensuing onslaught of public affection with his usual imperturbability, then joined them and listened attentively as they caught him up.

"So Willow and Tara are becoming Guardians. Good for them. Bad news about Angelus, though I think I can help you there," he told them.

"Do you know Dog the Bounty Hunter?" Xander joked; "Because that would be . . ." He trailed off. "Jeez, you do, don't you?"

"We've met a few times," Oz shrugged. "Nice enough guy. I meant more direct help. I run a skip tracing agency in town; pretty much an inevitable career for a werewolf. Anyway, I'm on a case now but my two assistants just finished one up and can give this their full attention."

He passed out business cards. "I'll give them a call; let them know you're their top priority." Oz flipped open a cell phone and speed-dialed.

"Oz, I know you're, well, _special_ enough to handle something like this but I'm not sure I'd want any of your people dragged into it," Buffy worried.

Oz gave her an appreciative little smile. "Don't sweat it, Buffy, Erika and Stephanie are _special_ too -- that's how they got their jobs."

Their breakfast and visit with Oz over, the heroic trio was on their way to Oz's office, and a meeting with his assistants.

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A vivacious young woman with hazel eyes and an unruly mass of copper curls barely contained by a purple scrunchi rushed to greet them as they entered Oz's agency.

"Hi, you must be Buffy and friends," she said. "It's so fun to finally meet you! Oz talks about you all the time."

"Oz _talks_?" Buffy asked, surprised.

"_All_ the time?" Xander amplified.

"Well, all the time for Oz, anyway," came another voice. A tall woman with smooth, mahogany colored hair and grey eyes approached them.

"This is Erika," the coppertop said. "Oh, and I'm Stephanie; pleased to meet you." She gave Xander a friendly squeeze as Erika shook Buffy's and Dawn's hands.

"Have a seat," Erika said, "We'll just fill out some paperwork, get a few details and be on our way. Steph, let go of Mr. Harris. You can mate with him after we finish the job."

Stephanie giggled and released the blushing Xander. He wondered how quickly the girls could track down the Scourge of Europe, bring him, at last, to Buffy and then be free for dating?

Buffy finished telling Erika what she knew of Angelus' movements in Canada, then waited for the printer to spit out the necessary paperwork.

"So . . .," she asked, "how long have you been working for Oz?"

"A couple of years now," Erika told her, "Not too long after we got turned. We sniffed the air one morning, realized someone new was in town and went to check it out."

"We saw Oz opening up some kind of agency, went in and asked for a job", Stephanie continued. "He asked if we'd take trainee pay, we said Hell, yes, and that was that."

"Didn't realize at the time that the training would include how to be a better werewolf," Erika said. "Considering how much time he spent teaching us all the things the Tibetan monks taught him, we were probably over-paid as trainees."

"And over-worked," Stephanie observed. "Not that I'm complaining. It was worth it just to learn how to control the change so we could wolf out when we wanted to, and not be jerked around by the moon."

"Regardless, we were lucky to get these jobs. Werewolfing had been hard on our regular employment," Erika sighed.

"Especially," Stephanie smirked, "when _someone_ was found sleeping naked in a very public place one morning."

"Embarrassing," Dawn sympathized. "You couldn't explain it away, maybe a little too much partying or something else unjob related?"

"I was a grade school teacher. It was the principal, escorting a class of 2nd graders on a field trip, who found me," Erika told her.

"Ouch."

"Yeah. It all worked out very well in the end though."

"She says that because she's sleeping with the boss now," Stephanie told them.

"Jealous," Erika said smugly.

Stephanie waved this off with a gesture well known to mean "you're right but I'll die before I give you the pleasure of hearing me admit it".

Dawn looked from one to the other. "You're sisters, aren't you?"

"Wow, sister werewolves!" Xander goggled. "How did that happen? You didn't, um, bite each other did you?"

"Of course not," Erika told the crushed Xander. She jerked her head towards Stephanie. "It all started when this one decided to look for love on-line."

"Lots of people use internet ads," Stephanie protested. "How could I know mine would attract a werewolf?"

"'Seeking animal-lover for long, moonlight walks'?! Who did you think would answer? Anyhow, this cheese ball she got a hold of wanted to take her to New York for dinner but I stepped on that fast. No one takes my little sister across state lines without me vetting him first. Their first meeting was a family dinner at our place."

"I was steamed," Stephanie admitted, "but later I saw the sense of it."

"So he comes over and right away I don't like him because he looked like the kind of guy who'd turn into a werewolf -- which he did, halfway through the meal."

"Fortunately we used the good place settings, like _I_ suggested," Stephanie said. "Granny Nella's antique silverware really came in handy."

Erika nodded. "It did the trick, though we didn't realize it at the time. With all the biting, clawing, stabbing and screaming going on, nobody was really analyzing the situation. Steph and I lost consciousness right after Wolfie finally went down."

"When we woke up the next morning there was blood everywhere, even on the ceiling, and a naked dead guy in the middle of the dining room floor with a lot of flatware stuck in him. And Erika and I no longer had a mark on us."

"We couldn't figure it out, so we didn't really try," Erika explained. "We just figured Stephanie's date must have been some random psycho and we imagined all the wolf business out of sheer fright. Twenty-eight days later, of course, the truth was unavoidable, but at the time we just thought we'd had a narrow escape."

"What did you do with the body?" Buffy asked, ever practical.

"We'd been digging trenches for rose bushes," Stephanie told her, "So he's out there too now. I'll say this for him, he's been very good fertilizer."

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That's it, Angelus thought as he bounced along in handcuffs in the back seat of the black Range Rover. No more blonde women! His run of luck with all women had been piss-poor lately, but blondes had proved particularly troublesome.

Angelus shifted his attention with some bitterness to the two women in the front seat. Or brunettes or redheads either, he amended. Had quite enough trouble with them too. He briefly considered renewing his attack on the grid that separated the front from the back of the car, but shelved it in favor of more sulking. His last attempt had resulted in nothing but criss-cross marks on his face when he slammed into the magically reinforced barrier.

His trip to Canada had started out so well, too.

He didn't know where his pissant grand-fledgling or that wanker Watcher had found the Southern Slayer, but he hoped never to meet her again. The woman fought like all her joints were spring-loaded, and had been five minutes from cleaning his clock when Laura had shown up and caused enough of a distraction for him to escape. In her favorite car.

Angelus thought ruefully of the sleek yellow Viper's fate; he was dust if Laura ever found the car's remains. Still, it had gotten him as far as Toronto where he'd walked the clean streets and enjoyed fantasies of horribly killing various of its polite citizens.

It was while looking for his first Canadian meal that he spied that lawyer who'd given Angel so much trouble back in Los Angeles. This was priceless; he could have an old home week and dinner at the same time. Dessert as well, if the blonde hanging on the Texan's arm was as luscious as she looked.

Angelus gave her a little closer scrutiny. Something about her was nagging at the back of his mind. He was sure he'd never met her, yet she was oddly familiar. Then, as Angelus always did with women he liked the look of, he imagined her wearing a nun's habit and it came to him. She was the very image of the five nun sisters he'd killed in France a few centuries ago. _Sacre Bleu_, he thought sardonically, I wonder if she's a nun as well!

Sadly, that didn't seem likely from the limpid gaze she was giving Lindsey and the way her free hand absent-mindedly stroked his bicep. Not unless nunning had changed a lot while he wasn't looking.

Angelus strolled over to intercept Lindsey and his bird. "Long time, no see, MacDonald," he drawled.

"Angel!" Lindsey said, surprised.

"_Angelus_?" The blonde's head whipped around to stare at him, her huge green eyes getting even huger. Angelus had a brief impression of a slim fist coming very fast towards his face before he lost consciousness.

He woke up some place dank and shadowy. A metal collar was clamped around his neck and attached to the floor by several feet of chain. The blonde was pacing in front of him.

"I am Isabel Leguerre of Nante, Slayer and descendent of five innocent sisters, brides of Christ, butchered by you. I give you your choice, _salaud_," she told him coldly. "If you wish to die like a man, I will release you and kill you in hand to hand combat. Otherwise, I will kick you to death where you lie, _comme le chien que tu es_."

Angelus snarled and yanked the chain hard enough to pull it from its moorings. When it didn't budge, he stared at it, baffled.

"Don't even bother, champ," came Lindsey's voice. He was sitting in a corner behind them, idly strumming a guitar. "I've picked up a lot of tricks since leaving Wolfram and Hart, and that ensorcelled chain isn't going anywhere."

Angelus growled. "Take this collar off and we'll see who finishes first."

Isabel nodded curtly and pushed a button; with a little beep the collar sprang open and fell to the floor. Angelus lunged at the Slayer, who side stepped him neatly, did a quarter-turn and kicked him against the wall.

"Lucky shot!" Angelus scoffed, trying to figure out how to get past Isabel to Lindsey. She seemed fond of the tiny Texan, and that should be useful.

Isabel smiled thinly. "Your thoughts are obvious, beast. You will be long dead before a single hair on my man's head turns white."

The two combatants dove at each other, engaging in mid-air and spinning to the ground. Isabel landed on top of the vampire and struck several savage blows to his face before he managed to throw her off and stagger to his feet.

A muted alarm sounded in the basement, indicating a break-in somewhere in the house above. Isabel glared at Angelus narrowly.

"You have friends here? People who will rescue you with your excessive forehead and foolish looking hair?" she asked.

"Baby, I don't think that matters right now." Lindsey was listening to the soft footfalls coming over the monitor.

"You're right, _cheri_. First things first." Isabel went to the basement door. "Bind him. I'll settle my family's debt with Angelus as soon as I deal . . ."

Isabel didn't get to finish her thought. The door was barely open a crack when it flew violently out of her hand, throwing her behind it.

A large wolf with a deep mahogany coat and grey eyes hurtled into the room and barreled into Lindsey, knocking him breathless to the floor before he could utter an incantation. A second wolf, this one with copper fur and hazel eyes, stood with two paws against the basement door, pinning the angry Slayer to the wall.

Angelus charged up the stairs, followed closely by the wolves who somehow managed to pull the door shut and lock it before leaping up the stairs on Angelus' heels.

"Good doggies," Angelus told them as he raced out of the house to freedom. He'd just gotten to the end of the street when a lasso flew over his head and tightened around his neck, jerking him off his feet and to the ground.

In the split second that he lay stunned, his hands were cuffed behind him and he was thrown unceremoniously into the back seat of a nearby car.

Two young women, barefoot and dressed in tees and running shorts, one with mahogany hair and the other a coppertop, jumped into the front seat. The copper-haired one slid behind the wheel, gunned the motor and tore off back down the street. They passed Isabel and Lindsey just running out of the house, and waved cheerfully as they zoomed away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was early morning when Spike turned slowly onto the unfamiliar, tree-lined street and scanned it for a familiar object.

"There it is!" he said with a sudden grin, "fourth house from the end. $50, Watcher."

Giles double-checked the address Isabel had emailed to him for her new house. Damn. He should have known better than to agree to Spike's bet that he could pick out the French Slayer's home in less than five seconds without knowing the number.

"It's the car, isn't it?" Giles grumbled, eyeing the old, beautifully refurbished, shiny red Mustang.

"Oh, yeah," Spike replied, pocketing his winnings with one hand while guiding the DeSoto into the driveway behind the Mustang with the other. "Isabel bought that car the first day she arrived in Canada from France. Drove it, brand new, right out of the showroom. She's probably made arrangements to be buried in it when the time comes."

Pulling his coat over his head protectively, Spike walked quickly to the front door, followed by Giles.

"Isabel," he yelled, "For God's sake let me in! I'm parboiling out here!"

The door flew open and a willowy blonde pulled Spike inside, then embraced him enthusiastically, kissing his cheeks three times.

"_Mon ami!_" she cried, "how wonderful to see you again. You and dear Karen visit Canada so seldom."

"Hard to arrange vacations with our schedules, especially now," Spike told her. "Karen sends her love. Isabel Leguerre, Slayer, this is Rupert Giles, Watcher."

Giles began to murmur his greetings to the Slayer, when Isabel grabbed the startled Watcher and kissed him as well.

"And you are my dear Jennifer's new _amore_, and such a fine looking man! I'm so glad; she has been alone too long and I was afraid she would begin to collect cats."

Giles looked around while trying to think of something to say to this, and found his eyes settling on a man finishing up a piece of toast in a breakfast nook.

"That gent," Spike told him, "is Lindsey MacDonald, once of Wolfram and Hart's Los Angeles office. What the hell are you doing in Canada, mate?"

"Nothing that concerns the forces of good, or semi-good," Lindsey replied. "I was studying the black arts, plotting big revenge on Wolfram and Hart and smaller revenge on Angel Investigations when I found someone better to spend my time on."

As Isabel took a seat beside him, Lindsey ran a knuckle gently over her cheek. She purred happily.

"I've reformed him, just enough. No woman needs a man entirely tamed."

"Er, yes." Giles shifted uncomfortably. "Now as to this business with Angelus . . . "

"Sit, sit, Watcher. We've had a set back but only a small one, I assure you. Have some tea while I tell the story." Isabel poured tea for Giles and Spike and began her tale.

"We met Angelus quite fortuitously while shopping downtown last evening. He delivered himself into our hands with disappointing ease for so legendary a fiend."

"She KO'd him," Lindsey explained.

"We dragged him to my Mustang, averting suspicion by explaining that he was Irish and therefore drunk. From there it was a quick trip home to my basement, which I have equipped to contain such villains as he. Alas, I'd barely begun to mete out the too long delayed vengeance of the Leguerre family when, _salete de merde_, we were rudely interrupted by two . . . two . . ."

"Bitches," Lindsey supplied.

"I was searching for something less accurate, but yes, bitches. _Petites putains dégoûtantes de loup-garou! _That werewolves should assist a vampire at all, and against _me_! And they caused me to break my basement door. Such effrontery." Isabel took a moment to calm herself.

"To conclude, those two snatched away Angelus and have spirited him back to America."

"They told you their plans?" Giles asked, surprised.

"Of course not. I did not speak to those she-devils at all. I know Americans when I see them."

Giles didn't bother to dispute this. Isabel appeared certain and besides, Giles himself often thought Yanks easy to identify, whatever form they took. He sighed, then sipped his tea and straightened himself decisively.

"We'll not let him evade us again. He must be contained for the world's sake, and restored to his better self for Buffy's sake. Spike, we will leave immediately."

"_Non, non_!" Isabel said, coaxing them back to their seats. "I still have things well in hand; this is a minor trouble only. You will stay here and rest until tomorrow, we will visit and plan and then you will resume your journey. I have contacted my protégé, a young American Slayer who is uniquely well equipped to deal with Angelus."

"She's a neo-Slayer? Has she a Watcher? Any formal training at all?" Giles fretted.

"No Watchers. There are certain Slayers who are, shall we say, ill suited for conventional training. Dear little Marie more than qualifies as one such. Be at ease, my protégé will not fail us."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles away, on the American side of the border, a dark purple GTO and its occupants waited patiently. As the black Range Rover passed the border guard, the dark-haired girl at the wheel sat up and nudged her handsome companion awake.

"Showtime," the young Slayer told him, her fangs gleaming white against her bright red lipstick.

TBC

_Sacre Bleu: _according to my french connection, Isabel, this is an outdated expression that never made any sense to begin with, so don't even bother trying to figure out what it means

_mon ami: _my friend

_amore: _lover

_salaud_: pig

_comme le chien que tu es: _like a diseased dog

_cheri: _dear

_salete de merde_: fucking shit

_petites putains dégoûtantes de loup-garou: _filthy little werewolf whores


End file.
